Service Unit
by hulettwyo
Summary: Takes place just after the Angel episode 'Damage' then goes AU. Spike's hands were cut off, but that's just the beginning of his trouble. Will he be strong enough to survive? And will Buffy be able to help him? ****WARNING**** This story is graphic. Extremely graphic. It doesn't simply allude to torture and sexual abuse, it describes it in gory Technicolor detail.
1. Chapter 1 - Bargain

Takes place just after the Angel episode 'Damage' then goes AU.

Spike's hands were cut off, but that's just the beginning of his trouble. Will he be strong enough to survive? And will Buffy be able to help him?

****WARNING****

This story is graphic. Extremely graphic. One of my beta readers (no_promises) cautions that this story should not be read while eating. It doesn't simply allude to torture and sexual abuse, it describes it in gory Technicolor detail, so if stuff like that squicks you, please don't read.

For all of you that are still with me, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading!

Beta read by these lovely people – Passion4Spike, no_promises, sammigirl986, mhustler, Kicki, Willowbabble, hinaths, and wrigglerosie.

I would like to thank them for all their help, ideas, and the boatloads of encouragement. They are gourmet awesomesauce.

Service Unit

Chapter One – Bargain

Blood soaked images paraded through his mind as screams of agony rang in his ears. The star of today's torture show was the tiny paralegal that had dropped off a stack of files about twenty minutes ago. In his mind she was chained, writhing and bleeding, as his fangs sliced and tore.

Angel groaned and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile as the scene in his head drew to a bloody conclusion. Lately, his thoughts had been decidedly… gory. It seemed that almost anyone he laid eyes on these days moved into those chains in his mind to bleed, scream, and die.

He glanced down at the small damp patch on the front of his slacks. One more scene like that one and he'd need a new pair. And a shower. He laid his hand on the bulge under the patch and squeezed. He hadn't been this hard in ages. Not since the last time Angelus had been unleashed.

Angel was vaguely aware that he should maybe be a little more upset about that, that there might be something really wrong here. Maybe he should tell someone about the barbaric acts of torture he saw himself committing in his head every day and that he'd nearly shot his load without even a touch during the last session. That thought tried to gain momentum and push itself to the fore, but something was holding it back, and it withered and died before his conscious mind could grab hold.

Angel looked at the pile of work stacked in front of him and sighed, adjusting himself as he sat forward and pulled his chair closer to his desk. He picked up a file and started reading, but no matter how many times he read the same paragraph, the words refused to make sense.

He tossed the file onto the desk with a snarl and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, then smiled faintly when it ended up in 'the room.' The chains were currently empty, shining dully in the low light, the blood that had been coating them now gone. He mumbled under his breath as his excitement built, "Who should it be this time?" Images flickered through his mind – people from the office, people he'd killed years and years ago, current and former clients – but nobody stood out.

He was about to give it up and get back to work when Wesley's face surfaced, followed quickly by Gunn, Fred, Lorne, and Spike. Angel shook his head slightly, frowning for a moment. His friends – not that he considered Spike his friend, he was just a barely tolerated nuisance – had never before appeared in the chains, it had only been acquaintances… people he knew, but didn't really have any attachment to.

That small thought that had tried to surface before tried again. *_This is wrong, Angel. Something is wrong._* It made a little headway, getting closer to the surface this time, when suddenly it was squashed. A black, churning cloud enveloped it and sucked it back, leaving the images of Angel's friends – and barely tolerated nuisances – cycling through his mind.

Angel's frown turned upside down as the images slowed and one was selected. His hand slid slowly over the bulge in the front of his pants as the chains were filled and the festivities began.

That muscle in MindSpike's jaw was ticking like a heartbeat as he ground his teeth together to hold back a scream, too stubborn to give his torturer the satisfaction. He glared, his eyes flickering between blue and amber as MindAngel sliced long curving gashes into his torso, but still no screams. That would not do.

MindAngel moved down, carving a blocky pattern into the pale skin of MindSpike's right thigh from hip to knee. That earned him a strangled whimper, and he looked up to MindSpike's face, only to see him with his head tipped back, the tendons in his neck straining as he tried not to make any noise. _I'd forgotten just how much pain he can take, and how beautiful he is when he's taking it. It's been so long since…_

He stood and flipped MindSpike around so that he was facing the wall, then he considered the pale canvas laid out before him. It had been decades since he'd marked the boy, and memories bubbled to the surface of lazy days stretched out in front of a roaring fire while he amused himself with with the family's newest member… securely bound, of course. MindAngel shuddered and the motion carried over to Angel as he sat in his office chair, his hand pressing in hard, rhythmic strokes against the thick column of flesh straining against his zipper.

MindAngel stepped forward and placed the tip of the knife against the skin over MindSpike's right shoulder blade. The picture he was thinking of would take some time to carve, and would cover nearly all of the younger vampire's back, but it wasn't like either of them were going anywhere anytime soon. He got to work.

He had to hand it to the blond vampire. He'd gotten a lot tougher over the years. MindAngel was nearly done carving the detailed angel wings into MindSpike's back before he finally gave in and started screaming. Overall, the picture had turned out well, even though MindSpike's twitching and jerking and growling over his shoulder for MindAngel to 'get bent' had messed up some of the feathers, causing them to look ragged and broken.

Angel was appreciating the startling contrast of bright red blood streaking in rivulets across the pale skin of MindSpike's ass when the phone on his desk rang. He startled violently and the hand that had been squeezing his cock flew up and knocked his blood mug onto the floor with a crash, sending ceramic shards flying every which way. He steadied himself then leaned forward and hit the speaker button with a growled, "This is Angel."

"Where is he? I want to talk to him. Now."

MindSpike whimpered pitifully as MindAngel flipped him back around, the raw cuts on his back scraping against the rough stone wall. Angel shuddered again then tried to focus on the voice from the phone. "Buffy?"

"Yes. Where is he?"

The images of MindSpike writhing and bleeding were making it exceptionally hard to concentrate on the conversation… and making other things just exceptionally hard. Angel knew he should know what she was talking about, but he just… didn't. "Where is who?"

A frustrated sigh and then, "Don't be stupid, Angel, I'm really not in the mood."

MindSpike managed to wheeze out, '_She's talkin' 'bout me, you git._' and Angel leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Andrew told you."

"Yeah, he did. And I'm sure you know how unbelievably pissed I am at you right now because you didn't."

"Spike asked me not to. I was just doing what he wanted." MindSpike snorted at that, mumbling something along the lines of if Angel couldn't have Buffy then nobody could, then he howled as MindAngel slammed a dull stake into his stomach, twisting and digging as he tried to see if he could drive it all the way through. He did, and the dulled point poked through an unsliced portion of the skin of MindSpike's back with a satisfying pop. MindAngel jerked the stake free to another agonized howl from MindSpike, then he reached two fingers into the gaping hole in his stomach and hooked out a section of intestine, arranging it to loop artfully on MindSpike's low belly.

Buffy chuckled bitterly. "Right. Because you've always done what he asked you to. You always do what **you** think is best, Angel, regardless of anybody else's feelings."

Angel remained silent for a moment as MindSpike begged for the pain to stop. _Finally got him to beg and I can't even enjoy it because I'm on the damn phone._ Angel shuddered as the whispered words washed over him then said quietly, "Buffy, he wanted you to remember him as a Champion, going out in a blaze of glory as he saved the world. And he wanted you to be happy, move on with your life, that's why he didn't contact you."

Buffy's voice was strained as it floated quietly up from the speaker. "But I'm not happy, Angel, and I can't move on because I told him and he didn't believe me. He died not believing me."

MindAngel clamped his hand down over MindSpike's mouth, silencing the agonized whimpers. "Not believing you about what?"

Buffy drew a lungful of air then let it out slowly and her voice was fairly steady when she said, "That I love him. I told him and he didn't believe me. I've spent every minute since then wishing I could go back… change how I treated him… tell him sooner. Maybe we could've had something, but I waited too long, hurt him too much, and when I finally told him, he…"

Angel tamped down a furious growl as he finished for her, "Didn't believe you. Yeah, I got it." A particularly vicious maneuver with the knife had MindSpike screaming in agony again as his body arched away from the wall, every muscle taut. MindAngel's artful loop of intestine was now lost in the mass of bloody loops on the floor at MindSpike's feet. MindAngel flicked the blade of the knife across the two sections of intestine that were still attaching the rest to MindSpike's body and they slithered down to land on the pile with a wet sounding plop.

"So, where is he?"

Angel ignored her question and answered with two of his own, "So, you're finally cookies? You're all done baking?"

There was confused silence on the line for a few seconds then a quiet whisper drifted out, "Yeah, all done. And all my cookies are Spike-shaped. I know I told you that maybe someday we could… but we can't, Angel. We both know that. I'm sorry."

Now it was Angel who chuckled bitterly. "Yeah. Sorry." Another agonized scream from MindSpike.

"So? Where is he?"

Angel sighed. "He's in the infirmary. Your psycho slayer cut his hands off." _Kind of like I just did in my head… only it wasn't his hands I cut off. Now it's doubly assured that he'll never have kids._ MindAngel lifted the bloody orbs in his hand and held them where MindSpike could see, then dropped them to the floor and crushed them into paste under the heel of his boot.

"She what? Is he all right?"

Another sigh. "Yes. They've been reattached. He'll be fine." Two quick flicks of the blade earned a pair of screams as MindSpike's nipples were removed.

"Can I talk to him?"

"No." Pull taut, cut slowly and with deliberation, and you'll earn the loudest, most agony-filled scream of the night. Of course, when slicing off a man's penis, you'll probably get the same scream whether you cut fast or slow. MindAngel held up the bloody piece of meat and waggled it in front of MindSpike's face. _You won't be sticking this in Buffy ever again, Spikey-boy._ He poked the blade of the knife through the thickest part until it was pressed crosswise against the hilt then he gripped the handle and drove the blade deep into the center of the bleeding stump he'd left behind. Huh, what do you know? That got another scream.

"Why the hell not? You can't keep us apart, Angel. You're just gonna have to deal with it. Now put him on the damn phone!"

MindAngel picked up another knife then looked over the bloody, battered body hanging against the wall, trying to find something to use it on. MindSpike's tongue slipped out, licking a drop of penis blood off his lip, and MindAngel grinned. "He can't talk because he's unconscious, Buffy." _And because I've just cut out his tongue._ MindAngel held up the slippery bit of flesh and his grin widened as he tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the wall across the room with a wet splat then slid slowly down to the floor.

MindAngel licked the blood from the blade as Angel said, "Look, I've got to go. I'll let him know you want to speak to him when he wakes up."

"I'll come to LA."

Angel scowled as a shudder worked its way through him. Seeing Buffy suddenly seemed like a very, very bad idea. "No. Just stay there. I'll have him call you."

"Wait. Don't you have a company jet or something? Can't you just send him over here?"

"What if he doesn't want to see you?" MindSpike's screams had taken on a distinct gurgling quality because of the whole no tongue thing and MindAngel smirked. _Because, let's face it… seeing you might be kind of hard to do when his eyeballs are rolling around on the floor._ MindAngel caught one of the eyeballs gently under the toe of his boot then pressed down until he felt it pop. Cloudy goo shot out and MindAngel lifted his foot to look at the mashed mess. He could still see just a bit of blue so he stomped his toe down and twisted, grinding it into the stone. He bent down and picked up the other eyeball, bouncing it in his palm as he wondered just how many parts he could remove before MindSpike dusted.

Buffy snorted. "This is Spike we're talking about. Undead stalker-boy, remember? He spent a lot of time trying to give lung cancer to the tree outside my house just so he could see me. So, either I'm coming to LA or Spike's coming to Rome. Take your pick."

Angel stopped trying to hold back the growl. "You can't force him, Buffy."

"I won't have to force him. I love him. He loves me. It's just that simple. Besides, I figured you'd be glad to get rid of him, considering that you two can't stand each other."

"No, we can't, but…" _I've suddenly found him to be very… entertaining. Wonder if Wolfram and Hart has any vacant dungeon rooms? _MindAngel stepped forward, popping the eyeball with his thumb as he did. He made sure the blue was obliterated then tossed the ruined husk over his shoulder to land next to MindSpike's tongue. He lifted the knife and made two sure cuts, holding the freed flesh in his other hand. He was amazed that MindSpike could still scream, but scream he did, even around the two detached ears MindAngel had just stuffed down his throat.

"Oh, I get it… you complete asshole. You're so selfish that you'd rather have all of us be miserable and alone just because you don't like Spike and can't stand the thought of him being with me. You and I are done, Angel, and if we weren't already, your attitude right now would've sealed that deal. We can't ever be together, so just send Spike to Rome so I can talk to him. If he doesn't want to stay, he doesn't have to, but I want to see him in person. I want to tell him in person."

The silence drew out for several seconds as MindSpike writhed weakly in his chains. Sadly, there weren't any more screams… having your vocal cords slashed will do that every time. MindAngel stood quietly, licking blood from his fingers. When they were clean, he dipped them deeply into the bloody gash across MindSpike's stomach then brought them back to his mouth.

Angel was just about to speak when there was a flash of light and a slim, white-haired, wizened old man appeared in a puff of purple smoke. Angel blinked owlishly as he tried to figure out if this was really happening or if it was another MindScene. The old man leaned heavily on a knarled staff as he took a few pained steps forward and rested his hand on Angel's desk. His coal-black eyes glinted evilly as he breathed out almost silently, "It is time, Angelus."

Angel tried to speak, only to find that his voice seemed to have deserted him. _But __**my**__ vocal cords haven't been cut. _ He cleared his throat and tried again. "Uh… Buffy… let me call down to the infirmary. Hang on." He punched the hold button then pushed his chair back away from the desk, scrambling to his feet as the MindRoom faded into blackness.

The old man chuckled. "You remember me. That is good. It has been so long, I was sure you had forgotten our bargain."

Angel croaked, "Bargain?"

The man smiled. "Do not play coy with me, vampire. You know exactly why I am here. I fulfilled my end of our bargain a century ago and now the time has come for you to fulfill yours. Ten years of service, Angelus. That is what you agreed to and I am here to collect. Let us go."

Angel shook his head. "I can't. Not now. Not for that long."

The man's eyes flashed. "You do not have a choice. You agreed to ten years. It is not that long a time when compared to how long you have already lived." He looked Angel over, his eyes pausing for a few long seconds on the sizeable bulge still tenting the front of his pants, then he smiled again. It was not a nice smile. "You will do very well, I think."

That smile caused Angel's cock to deflate rapidly and he shook his head. "No. I can't. I have people here that depend on me and I'm under contract with the Senior Partners. I can't just leave for ten years. I know we had a deal, but…"

The man cackled wickedly, "Oh, you have forgotten!" His eyes sparkled with glee. "You have no need to worry for your people or your contract, Angelus. You will fulfill your end of the bargain in my home dimension, but in this dimension, you will only be gone for three days. Your people and your employer will most likely not even miss you, although they may notice how you've _changed_ upon your return." The man held out his hand to Angel. "We must go."

"Three days? That's all?"

The man's smile was so evil that it made Angel's demon cringe in terror. "Here, yes. There… no."

Angel backed up a step, his mind whirling madly as he tried to figure a way out of this. He contemplated the throwing axe hanging on the wall near his hand then jumped slightly at the amused chuckle from the old man. "Even if you succeeded in killing me, the bargain would still stand, Angelus. Another would be sent to collect."

Angel frowned then shrugged his shoulders. "It was worth a shot." He looked desperately around the office and his eyes fell on a stack of files perched on the corner of his desk. Contracts. Mind numbingly boring contracts that he had to read through because they were being renegotiated. Angel's eyes lit up and he smiled. "I want to renegotiate the bargain."

The old man's eyes flashed again. "You cannot. The bargain requires that you serve the full ten years. It cannot be lessened. There is nothing to negotiate."

Angel sat back down in his chair with a smirk. "There's always something that can be negotiated. I understand that you're firm on the length of time, but what about me? Do I have to be the one to serve? What about a replacement? We have several demons locked up downstairs. You could take your pick. Hell, take two."

The man seemed to consider for a moment then shook his head. "No, the bargain would not allow that. The bargain was struck with you, a Master Vampire of the Aurelian line. Only another Master Vampire of your line would be able to fulfill the bargain in your stead."

Angel watched the blinking light on his phone as the wheels in his head turned. _Damn… just when I finally figured out what Spike's good for. Oh well… better him than me. He'll finally be of some use._ He looked up at the man with an evil grin of his own. "I think that can be arranged. Please give me a minute." He scrubbed one hand over his face and picked up the handset as that thought from earlier tried to wiggle its way free. _This is WRONG! You can't do this to Spike! He's a Champion! YOU made the bargain, not him! This is WRONG! Don't do this!_ Angel's finger wavered slightly over the button as the thought was tackled and beaten into submission, then he stabbed the button with a little more force than was strictly necessary. "He can't travel, Buffy. Not yet."

"Fine. He can't travel, but I can. I'll be there tomorrow."

Angel gripped the arm of his chair almost hard enough to punch his fingers through the leather. "No. I don't want you here. Give him a week to heal and I'll have him delivered to your doorstep."

"Fine. One week from this minute, Angel, or I'm coming over there… and I'm bringing Mr. Pointy."

The phone clicked in his ear and he dropped the handset back into the cradle with a snarl then looked up at the old man. "Let's go collect your vampire."


	2. Chapter 2 - Therapy

Thank you all for the great reviews! I'll try to respond to them when I get time.

*whispers* If you keep them coming, they feed my muse and he wants to write more. He eats them up like chocolate cake.

I'm still writing this story, but unless real life rears up and bites me in the backside, I should be able to update it every three days.

Service Unit

Chapter Two - Therapy

A quick word with a nurse down the hall from Spike's room was all it took to secure a syringe loaded with enough sedative to bring down an elephant. Angel pushed open the door and strode purposefully inside, followed by the old man who shuffled in after him and moved to the corner, leaning heavily on his staff.

Spike blinked sleepily at Angel and slightly wiggled his fingers as he mumbled, "'Ello, Peaches. What brings you down? Nurse Ratched out there just shot me up, so I'll probably nod off on you… might want to make it quick."

Angel stepped up to the side of Spike's hospital bed. "Just got a call from Buffy. She knows you're back and wants me to fly you to Rome so you two can… talk."

Spike smiled loopily and shakily raised his heavily bandaged hands. "Not up for much _talkin'_ just now." He dropped his hands gently to the bed and looked up at Angel, trying to keep his eyelids from slipping closed. "Buffy wants to see me? Really?"

Angel laid his hand gently on Spike's shoulder, blinking suddenly when the image of that same shoulder flayed open to the bone flashed briefly in his mind. "She told me that she loves you, and if you don't go there, then she's going to come here." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "If you don't want to see her, I can probably keep her out of the building."

Spike shook his head, groaning quietly as the room spun woozily around him. "No… want to see her… bloody love her, Peaches… you know that, you thick sod… jus' need to rest a bit… then I'll go." His eyes closed completely as his body relaxed into the bed and Angel just barely caught the whisper, "Buffy loves me."

Angel quickly injected the sedative into Spike's arm then turned to the old man in the corner. "That should keep him out for a while… probably until he's healed."

The old man stepped toward the bed. "And you understand that he will bear the full weight of your payment? Everything that you agreed to, he will now fulfill?"

Angel nodded. "Yes. You get him for ten years and I get him back in three days. Right?"

The old man nodded. "He can be brought back here or I can have him delivered to this Buffy that you speak of."

Angel looked over Spike's inert form, seeing shadows of the injuries he'd inflicted on MindSpike. He blinked suddenly as the realization hit that if Spike was brought back here then he definitely wouldn't be in any condition to fly to Rome because Angel wouldn't be able to help himself. The compulsion to drag Spike to the dungeon and chain him was already becoming almost too strong to resist. "She's not expecting him for a week… but I guess he could be a little early."

The old man cackled, "Or I could keep him." He looked Spike over appraisingly. "I'm sure he'll be very popular. Once the ten years has been served and your debt paid, any earnings above that could be split between us."

"Earnings?"

The man cackled again, "Oh yes. I'm sure this one will fetch quite a price, once his training is complete. We could both be very rich."

Angel shook his head. "I've got money. More than I'll ever need, but… maybe something else?"

"What would you like, Angelus?"

_What I'd like is to chain him… make him scream for me… but since I can't…_ "I want to see his training and his service. You do have some way to show me that, don't you?"

The old man's eyes spun with glee. "Yes… yes… I can show you… everything."

"Good. That's what I want." Angel picked up a pad of paper from the bedside table and scratched something down on it then handed it to the old man. "This is where he's to be delivered. No later than one week from right now. And don't worry about making him all pretty for her, just give him to her when the time's up and make sure she knows that he's a gift from me."

The man took the paper and secreted it into a fold of his robe. "It will be done as you have asked." He slipped his hand into his sleeve then removed it and touched something to Spike's forehead. He turned slightly and held it out to Angel. "This will allow you to see."

Angel held out his hand and the man's fingers opened and then Angel was looking down at a small crystal resting on his palm. "How do I activate it?"

"Simply say 'Let me see,' then whatever it is you wish to see, and it will show you."

"What about sound? Will I be able to hear what's going on?"

"Yes. Sound is part of the package, Angelus. I wouldn't want you to miss anything."

Angel nodded and slipped the crystal into his pocket. "All right. Do you need some help out with him?"

The man cackled again and stepped closer to the bed, laying his hand on Spike's stomach. "No. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Angelus."

Angel nodded. "Yeah. Hope I never see you again." He laid his hand on Spike's arm then leaned down and whispered, "Be 'seeing' you, William. Have fun and tell Buffy hello for me."

The cackling echoed around the room long after Spike and the old man had disappeared.

XX

XXXX

XX

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Yes, Spike, the doorbell works. God, I forgot how annoying you can be." Buffy wrenched open her front door, wearing a blinding smile because she fully expected to see a bleached blond, smirking vampire leaning against the door frame. Her smile wilted and was replaced by a look of confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

The small, yellow-skinned demon standing beside a large wooden crate blinked his several sets of eyelids then stammered, "Buffy Summers?"

Buffy grinned, "Hey, that's my name, too!" The demon's sputtering was kind of cute, but it got annoying pretty fast. Buffy sighed, "Ok… yes. I'm Buffy Summers." She reached down and patted the top of the crate. "What's this?"

The demon blinked again then pulled out a clipboard and flipped a few pages. "One service unit, three cases of sustaining fluid, one case of toys and miscellaneous supplies, the unit's records, and the instruction manual."

Buffy looked over the huge crate. "Unit? Supplies? Toys? Huh? Um… I didn't order anything."

The demon slipped his clipboard under one of his six arms and laid a hand with claw-tipped fingers on the crate. "It is a gift from Mr. Angel. Where would you like me to put it?"

Buffy sized up the demon and the crate then stuck her head out the door and looked for any other demons standing around the hallway. There weren't any. "Um… do you want some help?"

The demon smiled and shook his head. "No, thank you. Where would you like me to unpack the crate?"

Buffy backed up and motioned toward the living room. "Um… I guess in here will be okay."

The demon nodded and tapped the top of the crate with a claw. The crate shuddered and rose several inches off the floor then floated serenely into the living room and landed with a thump on the rug in front of the couch. The demon followed it in then circled it, dragging his claw along the edge. He tapped the top and the lid lifted off then floated over toward the door and leaned itself up against the wall. The demon lifted out the large piece of foam material from the top of the crate and Buffy gasped, her eyes huge as her hand flew up to cover her mouth. "What the hell is that? A person? Angel shipped me a person?"

The demon reached down into the crate and started removing several smaller crates that were stuffed into the space below the person's feet. He lined them up on the floor next to a chair as Buffy looked over the person in the box. He was curled up on his side with his knees drawn up to his chest, and yes, it was easy to discern gender what with the whole completely naked thing happening. His arms were bound behind his back with thick leather wrist cuffs and his head was completely covered in a thick black hood.

His pale skin was mottled with numerous bruises, welts, cuts, scratches, and punctures, some partially healed and some fresh. Buffy looked at the demon in alarm. "What happened to him? Why is he all beat up?"

The demon set down the crate he was holding and looked up at Buffy, blinking several sets of eyelids. "It would seem that the unit's last renter wanted to get as much use from it as he could before his lease was up. I do apologize for its condition, but I assure you, it will be healed in no time and will be ready and eager to serve."

Buffy squeaked, "Serve? Serve what? What the hell are you talking about?"

The demon motioned to the couch. "Perhaps you would like to have a seat while I unpack the unit, then I can give you a demonstration and show you some of its features. I will also need to instruct you on proper care and maintenance."

Buffy nodded slowly and backed up to the couch, dropping down onto the cushion in shock. _This has got to be some kind of freaky dream. I must have dozed off while I was waiting for Spike and this is what my exhausted brain came up with. Guess I'll just go with the flow for right now and see what happens, and then when I wake up, the first thing I'm going to do is make an appointment with a therapist… 'cause this is just… really therapy-worthy. _


	3. Chapter 3 - Demonstration

I know this is a day early, but… it's after midnight somewhere, right?

I have seventeen chapters completed and I'm working on this nearly every day, and barring a case of writer's block, I shouldn't make you guys wait for updates. *fingers crossed*

Note: This is one of those 'don't eat while reading' chapters, so be warned…

Service Unit

Chapter Three – Demonstration

The demon pulled something small from his robe then leaned into the crate near the man's head. He straightened then reached into the space near the man's back and pulled out a long, black stick, similar to a riding crop. The demon used the stick to tap the man on the hip and shoulder and he rose gracefully to his feet, even without the use of his hands. Buffy watched with wide eyes as the demon tapped his right knee and right hip and the man stepped easily out of the crate and onto the rug directly in front of her. The demon floated the crate out of the way, but it was an action that Buffy failed to notice because she was too busy staring.

Yeah… he was **definitely** male. There was no mistaking that now, not with his 'boy parts' on full display right in front of her face. She leaned over and squeaked at the yellow demon. "Why is he wearing… uh… that… whatever it is… on his… um…"

The demon dug in one of the small crates it had removed from the shipping crate and pulled out a thick binder, setting it on the couch next to Buffy. "That is a wrap and ring. The wrap is mostly decorative, but the ring at the base is used to keep the unit erect, and at the same time, prevent release. Some renters prefer their units unbound, some do not. It would seem that this unit's previous renter preferred it bound as I retrieved it in this condition just a few hours ago for shipment to you. I was made to understand that you wanted immediate delivery and could not wait until the unit was healed and prepared to your specifications. I do assure you, however, that the previous renter cleaned the unit thoroughly, inside and out, as the contract stipulated."

Buffy nodded vacantly then eyed the bound member in question. It was wrapped in a weave of thin leather strips, but she could still see that it was an angry shade of purple as it jutted out proudly from the slim, lithe form of its owner. A shiny metal ring at the base was tight against the flesh and was connected to another web of leather strips that tightly encased the sac. "It looks like it hurts."

The demon shrugged. "It does, but this unit's pain tolerance is quite high. You'd be surprised at what it can endure. Most of its renters have been… well… less than gentle."

The demon startled her when he stepped up next to the man and tapped him twice on the right shoulder then once on the back of his neck just below the hood. The man turned around then gracefully sank to his knees and bent at the waist, settling his forehead on the floor. His backside was now raised in the air, again directly in front of Buffy, and she scooted back on the couch, pulling her legs up as the demon moved around him and took up position next to his rump. "This is a pleasure unit, one of our very best – I trained it myself – and I'm sure you will enjoy it for many years. One of its main features is its ability to heal to a pre-use state within a matter of hours, no matter the size of the instrument or appendage used on it." The demon reached out and pulled something out of the man's backside then held it for Buffy's examination. "This plug should be in place anytime the unit is not in service." The pride in his voice was unmistakable as he continued, "And if you keep it filled with our specially designed lubricant," he lifted a small lid on the end then tipped it slightly, letting a drop of clear fluid drip out into his palm, "then the unit will always be ready for use, no preparation required."

Buffy's eyes trailed from the plug in the demon's hand up to where he'd removed it from. The man's entrance was raw, torn, and swollen, and Buffy drew in a quick breath. The demon noticed where her eyes were trained and smiled. "Don't worry, it will be healed soon. It would seem that the previous renter got his money's worth."

He let the plug drop and Buffy's eyes widened even more as it swung from a silver chain that was attached to the web of leather strips around the man's balls. "As you can see, it is attached to the unit so it cannot be lost. If you prefer the unit unbound, however, we have included a thigh strap to attach it to." He reached between the man's legs and retrieved the plug, pulling sharply on the chain as he lined up the tip and swiftly inserted it, ignoring the flinch of the taut buttocks around the abused hole. "Of course, if you'd rather not use the plug, preparation is still not necessary due to the healing properties of this unit." He tapped the plug twice and the man jerked slightly then seemed to cringe, like he was expecting a blow. The demon ignored the movement and reached into the crate that he'd set next to his feet. He pulled out a small remote control and held it out to Buffy. She looked at it like it might grow teeth and bite her, then slowly reached out and took it from him. "The top button turns it on and off, and the bottom two buttons increase or decrease the intensity."

Buffy looked from the remote in her hand to the man then at the demon. "Turns what on and off?"

"This." The demon tapped the plug again, harder this time, and the man flinched. Buffy dropped the remote like it had just caught fire and the demon scooped it up, his several eyes sparkling with… something. "I will show you." He pressed the top button and a low buzzing noise started up from the plug. The man tensed and flexed his fingers as the demon repeatedly pushed one of the lower buttons on the remote, making the buzzing noise louder. The man was trembling when the demon pocketed the remote and tapped him on the back of the neck again. The man rose shakily to his feet then turned around to face Buffy when the demon tapped him on the shoulder twice. Now the bound erection was even more purple and was slowly leaking fluid from the tip. The demon tapped it sharply with the stick and the man jumped and sucked air through his teeth in a hiss. "You can see the effect the plug has on the unit. During testing of the plug, I was able to keep this unit in a heightened state of arousal for close to a month before it finally collapsed."

Buffy slowly nodded, her brain frittering off to 'this cannot possibly be happening in my living room so it MUST be a dream' land, as the demon continued. "This unit's stamina will serve you well, madam. It has been quite sought after since it was introduced, servicing clients of varied species and genders, so please do not think that it can only service males. It is quite experienced in servicing females as well." He tapped the man in several spots and the man knelt down then started thrusting his hips in a rhythm as old as time itself. The demon let him continue for a few minutes then tapped him again and the man sat on his feet then fell gracefully backwards, resting his shoulders on the floor so that his bound erection stood almost straight up from his body. The demon tapped it sharply and the man jumped. "It can hold this position for days, and if you keep it bound and the plug turned on high, you can use it as long as you like and as many times as you like with no ill effects to the unit." He motioned toward one of the small crates. "Its toy kit also includes several different rings, some of them with vibrating capabilities for… added stimulation."

The demon continued the demonstration, oblivious to the obvious detachment of his audience. With a few more taps, the man was again kneeling in front of Buffy with his backside raised, the plug still buzzing away. The demon explained how much use the unit could endure before it had to be rested then he displayed a series of different toys.

Buffy couldn't speak. She couldn't move. She couldn't even think. She was sitting on the couch in a complete state of horrified shock as two sentences kept circling her brain. _Angel sent me a sex slave. Please let this be a dream._

The man, meanwhile, was trembling even harder because the demon had upped the intensity of the plug several more notches and his hands were clenched into fists where they were bound together at his low back when the demon pulled a large, thick dildo from the toy box and held it up. It was easily as big around as Buffy's upper arm and was about the length of her forearm. She watched in wide-eyed horror as the demon swiftly removed the plug, still buzzing as it swung from its chain, then slammed the dildo home. The man raised his head off the floor, his throat muscles straining like he was trying to scream as his back arched into a taut bow.

The demon launched a vicious strike from the stick to the man's bound balls, and even from behind him, Buffy could see his jaw drop as his mouth opened in an agonized scream, just with no actual sound. The demon raised the stick to strike again and Buffy was instantly on her feet. She whipped the stick out of the demon's grasp and shoved him violently across the room. "What the hell are you doing?" She dropped the stick, wiping her hand on her jeans as she stalked across the room to where the demon lay in a heap on the floor. "What the hell is all this? It's not a dream, is it? This is really happening!"

The demon nodded and she wrapped her fist in his robe and jerked him to his feet then just held him motionless. She looked back over her shoulder at the sex slave kneeling in her living room then closed her eyes. Several deep breaths later, that did nothing at all to quell the rage surging through her; she opened her eyes and dragged the demon to a nearby chair, hissing furiously into one of his many ears. "You are going to sit right here and explain all of this shit. Absolutely all of it. You are going to tell me why the hell Angel sent me a sex slave and you are absolutely not going to touch that man any more. You make one move I even kind of don't like and I'll find some interesting places for every single one of those disgusting **toys**. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

The demon nodded and shrank back into the chair, all his eyes wide and frightened. Buffy growled at him, "Don't even think about moving from that spot," then she stalked back across the room and stepped behind the man. He'd lowered his forehead back to the floor and was breathing deeply, taking great lungfuls of air as he tried to manage the severe pain he was in.

She reached out to stroke lightly along his forearm from elbow to cuff as she murmured, "It's okay… I'm gonna take this out now, so just keep breathing and it'll be over in a minute, okay?" There was no vocal response from the man, not even a nod of his head. All he did was tense slightly at her touch. He was still breathing deeply, although he seemed to be trying to get it under control. Buffy figured that was all the response she was going to get and reached down, gritting her teeth as she wrapped her hand around the base of the dildo and slowly slid it out of him.

She blanched at the blood covering the thing then tossed it into the toy crate with a disgusted grimace before she glared across the room at the cowering demon. "Is that," she waved at the crate, "a normal part of your demonstration? Do you **rape** him with that thing every time he goes to a new renter?"

The demon shook his head and stammered, "No, madam. Most renters already know what the unit's capabilities are. It actually has several regulars that lease its services. I only perform a demonstration for renters that are unfamiliar with this species."

Buffy shuddered and turned away from the demon, her stomach clenching in revulsion. She knelt next to the man's head and reached out to lightly stroke his shoulder and upper arm. "Hey… can you sit up?" He didn't move, except to tense slightly… again, although his breathing wasn't quite as labored. Buffy looked at the demon over her shoulder. "Why won't he move?"

The demon blinked all his eyes. "It's wearing a sensory deprivation hood, so it cannot hear, see, or smell, and the way you're touching it doesn't convey a proper command so it doesn't know what you want it to do."

"So how do I get him to sit up so I can take the stupid hood off?"

"Tap once on its hip then once on its ankle. That will bring it to a sit-kneel."

"Do I have to use the stick or can I just use my finger?"

"Your finger will suffice; just make sure to tap sharply."

Buffy nodded. "Right." She leaned forward and tapped her index finger on the man's hip then tapped his ankle. The result was immediate. He lifted his torso and sat back on his feet with his shoulders pulled back and his head bowed. His erection was still painfully purple, but had stopped leaking, and the plug was skittering around on the floor between his legs, still buzzing loudly. Buffy looked over her shoulder again. "Turn that damn thing off."

The demon hurriedly fished the remote out of his pocket and pushed the power button. The resulting silence was broken only by the man's ragged breathing. He was completely tense, his muscles tight and thrumming like he was being electrocuted.

Buffy was trying to decide what she should remove first… the cuffs, the hood, or all the crap encasing his nether region. "What should I take off first? I don't want to wig him out any more than he already is or cause him any more pain if I can help it. Maybe I could take off the hood and cuffs and then he could get the rest of it?"

She turned to look at the demon then frowned when he shook his head. "Units are not allowed to touch or manipulate their equipment. I tried to train that into this one, but it was extremely difficult in that regard, so I decided to restrain it instead of wasting precious service time on training that was accomplishing nothing."

Buffy screeched, "How long has he been cuffed like that?"

"It has been restrained like **that** for approximately seven weeks, but it has been restrained in other fashions for as long as it has been in service."

Buffy's hands clenched into fists as she tried to keep herself from snapping and flinging demon innards all over her living room. "And the hood? How long has he been wearing that?"

The demon stammered, "Uh… its final renter had contracted for a three week lease… so it's been that long for the hood and the ring and wrap, although that's a fairly short amount of time for this unit. It was once contracted for a two year lease and wore the hood for the duration, and the longest it's been bound was for a solid six months."

Buffy was finding it harder and harder to keep from ripping that nasty little demon to shreds. She took a deep breath then unclenched her fists and flexed her fingers. "Okay. First thing, I'll get the hood off and go from there." She stood up and leaned down, looking for a zipper on the back or something, but the hood was smooth all over. She reached under the man's chin and gently tipped his head back to get a closer look at the front. It sort of resembled a fencing mask because of the slightly curved shape that started at his hairline and stopped just under his nose. The bottom half of the mask was molded to the man's face, solid everywhere except for a slit the exact width of his mouth. Buffy's thumb gently tapped a bottom lip that was clearly defined under the tight fabric and the man immediately opened his mouth as wide as he could, the fabric moving with him like a second skin. Buffy spoke over her shoulder in alarm, "Why is he doing that? And where the hell is the zipper or whatever?"

"Your touch conveyed the command for oral service, and there is no zipper. The hood is installed magically and requires a spell to remove."

Buffy looked at the man kneeling in front of her with his mouth open, his tongue scratched and abraded. _God! I didn't think it was actually possible to **bruise** your tongue!_ She realized that his lips would be swollen and most likely split if they hadn't been protected by the hood and her stomach clenched. "Oh God. How do I get him to close his mouth?"

"Tap it on the top of the head."

She reached out and tapped lightly on the man's head and his mouth snapped closed. Buffy took another deep breath and turned to the demon. "Can you get the hood off?"

The demon nodded. "Anyone can. The spell is in the instruction manual, page eighty-five." He pointed to the binder lying on the couch and Buffy moved over and picked it up.

She flipped open the binder then almost dropped it. The page she'd opened to showed a picture of the man bent over a table, restrained and hooded. The demon currently sitting in her living room was standing beside him, smiling widely as he pointed to the huge dildo that was protruding from the man's backside. There was blood streaming down the man's legs, and even though the picture was kind of small, she could see the man's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white from the strain. She quickly checked the page number then flipped a few pages past it, only lifting the rest of them far enough to see the page numbers until she'd found the right one.

The spell page had a picture of the hood, not on the man, but on a dummy head. It explained the properties and uses and listed the spells to install and remove it. Buffy looked over at the demon incredulously. "That's it? I just say these five words? What happens?"

"The hood will dissolve."

Buffy looked over the words again then stepped up in front of the man. "Free the senses. Remove now." Nothing seemed to happen for the longest time, then Buffy noticed that the hood seemed to be fading, the solid black turning into a dark gray then a lighter gray before it dissolved altogether. The man hadn't moved at all during the procedure, but Buffy's heart had started trying to pound its way out of her chest as the man's features were revealed. She reached out and gently cupped his face, sliding her thumbs lightly over his razor-sharp cheekbones as she whispered quietly, "Oh God… Spike."


	4. Chapter 4 - Open

I want to thank everyone for the awesome reviews! I know, I'm horrible about responding to them, but I just don't really know what to say other than "Thanks for reading and I'm glad you like it!" And I should probably say, "Please don't hate me for how mean I'm being to Spike. Honestly, it's not me; it's my evil, therapy-needing muse. I swear. He loves torturing the poor guy and I do my best to force him to let Spike receive some comfort, but as they say… It'll get worse before it gets better."

Service Unit

Chapter Four – Open

Buffy spun to face the demon cowering in the chair. "What the hell have you done to Spike?"

The demon sputtered in fear at the rage rolling off the small woman. "You are acquainted with this unit?"

Buffy had her hand fisted in the front of his robe and had jerked him out of the chair before he could blink. "Yeah, I know him. How did you get him?"

"It was given into service twenty three years ago and my employer assigned me as its trainer."

"Given? By who? And that's not freaking possible! He was in LA **last week! ** Seven days ago! You said he's had two year leases and six months of whatever… How is that possible?"

The demon quivered and looked down at the hand tearing a hole in his robe. "Madam, I will explain everything. Kindly have a seat and I will answer any questions you have."

Buffy released the demon with a shove and he toppled back into the chair. "Nope." The demon relaxed slightly and Buffy snarled, "Oh, don't get me wrong, you're gonna explain, so you'd better not even think about moving from that chair. I'm gonna get Spike cleaned up and comfortable and then you and I are gonna have a nice long talk."

The demon nodded then said quietly, "As you wish, madam. I am required to remain until the customer is satisfied, so you do not need to worry about me while you tend to the unit."

"Fabulous. How do I get the cuffs off? Are they magic, too? What about the crap on his… uh…"

"The cuffs simply buckle on and the ring's release clasp is on the underside. If you do not wish the unit to ejaculate when the ring is opened, tap it in the center of its chest before you release the ring and it will not."

Buffy eyed Spike's still purple erection and huffed, "And how in the hell is he supposed to do that? Look at him. He looks like he's ready to explode."

"It has been trained so."

"Right. Of course he has." She turned to Spike and had to fight back a sudden burst of tears. He was still kneeling with his head tipped back in the position she'd left it in, but he hadn't opened his eyes or given any sign that he even knew she was there. She spoke over her shoulder in a quiet, cold voice, "Oh… and this is Spike. **HE** is not an it, and if you refer to him as 'the unit' or 'it' one more time, I'll make you into an 'it' if you aren't one already. And if you are, then I guess I'll just have to get… creative. Are we clear?"

She heard a small gulp then the demon answered, "Of course, madam."

Buffy nodded then moved toward Spike, speaking in a calm, soothing voice like she was talking to a trapped animal, "Spike? I'm going to un-cuff you now, so just be still, okay?"

There was no response as she stepped behind him and lightly touched his shoulder. She slid her fingertips down his arm until she reached the cuff on his right wrist. "Here we go, Spike." She quickly unbuckled the cuff and eased it away from his raw and abraded skin. He didn't move except for a slight twitch of the fingers on that hand. The left cuff was soon unbuckled and Buffy tossed them into the toy crate with a snort of disgust. Spike's hands were still positioned at his lower back, only now he was having to work to keep them there. His muscles were trembling slightly and Buffy noticed that his breathing had increased.

She lightly grasped his arms just above the abraded skin and started gently pulling them apart. He didn't resist her at all, but she stopped when he tensed, obviously in pain. His muscles had become accustomed to the position and it hurt him to move them to a new one. "Spike?"

She could hear his teeth grinding together as he forced his arms apart and moved them around to the front of his body, only to extend them out and press his wrists together at chest height. Buffy blinked then looked over at the demon. "Why is he doing that?"

"The u… er… he is waiting for new restraints to be applied. As I mentioned, he has not been unrestrained for his entire length of service."

Buffy stepped around Spike, noting that he still hadn't moved his head or opened his eyes. "Why won't he open his eyes or move or anything? Can he even hear me?"

"He has not been given a command to do either of those things, and no, he cannot hear you."

Buffy turned to the demon. "But I took the hood off."

"This u…" The demon paused, gulping again, then continued, "He was rendered deaf during training."

Buffy's voice was nearly a snarl. "Rendered deaf. Right. Just how, exactly, was that done? And for your sake, it had better be able to be reversed."

The demon hurried to speak, "Of course, madam, it is simply a magical item inserted into the ear canal. Once removed, normal hearing will return in a matter of moments."

"Why did you do that to him in the first place?"

"This… uh… he was rather difficult to tame, madam, and I was forced to use every method at my disposal to…"

Buffy slashed her hand through the air. "Just shut it, okay? I get it. You took everything you could away from him so he'd be the perfect little slave. Can he see? Can he talk? Can he smell?"

"His vision is unimpaired, although it may take some time for his eyes to adjust after wearing the hood. His sense of smell and voice, however…"

"However?"

"His abilities to scent and vocalize were also removed during training."

Buffy's hands clenched into fists and she had to fight off a wave of despair at never again hearing Spike's deep baritone. She desperately wanted him to say something… anything… some small reassurance that the Spike she knew was still in there somewhere. Even an insult would be welcome at this point. She'd cry with happiness if he told her that she had stupid hair or a tragic taste in men. She forced her hands to relax then pinned the demon with a glare. "Can they be returned?"

The demon nodded vigorously. "Yes, madam, if you wish them to be, although I must tell you that this… uh… he is quite… noisy… during certain… activities. His screaming becomes somewhat grating after a time…"

Buffy was across the living room in a flash and hoisting the demon out of the chair by the front of his robe… again. "Stop talking." She dragged him across the room and thrust him toward Spike. "Fix him. Remove whatever magical crap you need to so he can hear and talk and smell. And if you hurt him even a little tiny bit…"

She let the threat hang in the air as the demon gulped again and nodded toward one of the crates on the floor. "The tool I need is in that crate, madam."

"Great. Get it. And what in the hell is the hood for if you've already taken almost all his senses?" Buffy closed her eyes. "You know what? Don't bother answering because I've already figured it out. It's just one more 'method' to break him, isn't it? Take almost everything away and then lock him into the dark on top of it. God, you're sick." She opened her eyes and saw the demon just standing by the crate, not moving. She barked, "What the hell are you waiting for?" He jumped and bent to the crate, shuffling items around, and Buffy glowered at him then looked over at Spike. "How do I get him to open his eyes?"

"Tap an eyelid."

Buffy made another disgusted noise and moved to stand in front of Spike, reaching out to gently push his arms down. His brow furrowed a bit, but he didn't otherwise react as she directed his hands to rest on his thighs then gently uncurled his fingers. She stood in front of him and took a deep breath, wondering what exactly was going to happen when he opened his eyes.

She braced herself and reached tentatively toward his face.

XX

XXXX

XX

Spike's POV

He restrained himself from taking a deep breath of relief as he felt the hood dissolving, wondering how long he'd be without it this time. Not that wearing the hood was much different from not wearing it, being that his renters seldom allowed him to open his eyes, but still. Any small freedom he **was** allowed was to be celebrated and enjoyed for as long as possible.

He nearly jumped when he felt small, warm hands cup his face. Thumbs brushed over his cheekbones and he stayed still, not even daring to breathe, as he tried to ascertain what order this new renter was giving him, but the hands weren't giving any type of command that he understood.

The hands went away and he braced himself for the punishment he'd earned by not following the order, but nothing happened. He knelt there, wondering if his new renter was looking for something to punish him with or if his trainer was explaining the most effective punishments for disobedience. He sincerely hoped it was the former and that his trainer wasn't giving his renter any ideas. It was obvious from the trainer's demonstration of his features and abilities that his new renter was unfamiliar with his species, and yes, he could endure quite a lot of pain, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it, or wanted his new renter to be told how to inflict it.

He'd mostly locked away his current pain – he could still feel his injuries and the tight bindings around his cock and balls, but the pain was pushed down into the back of his mind – although any new injuries or inflicted pain would bring all of it slamming back to the fore and he'd be writhing in renewed agony.

He was so tired of being in pain. He'd been in pain for so long now that he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been. He'd stopped trying to remember his past, because keeping those memories alive had only caused more pain, mostly located around his dead heart. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter as unwelcome flashes of memory played across his mind – blonde hair, shining hazel-green eyes, a soft smile, and two joined hands engulfed in flames.

He trembled and hurriedly shoved those memories away, locking them up tight. Thinking of her only made his current existence harder to deal with. He hadn't even thought her name – or his, if he was being completely honest with himself – in so long that he couldn't remember them, and he didn't want to try, not now when he had a new renter to acclimate to. He had to focus all his energy on his renter, learn what they wanted and how they wanted it, so he could perform his service adequately and hope to avoid a harsh punishment when he was returned to his trainer at the end of the lease. There was no way to avoid punishment altogether. No matter how well he performed, his trainer always found something worth punishing him for, but if he did well, then at least it wouldn't be very bad.

He'd become quite the proper little pleasure slave. He responded to commands quickly, almost without any thought at all, and he'd stopped trying to fight back ages ago. He just let whoever held his lease do whatever they wanted to him, no matter how brutal or degrading the act. He was also very good at showing how much whatever they were doing was hurting him because that's what they wanted… and what they were paying for. His renters received pleasure by causing him pain, and trying to be stoic throughout numerous beatings and rapes had only brought extended sessions of punishment from his trainer. So now, he just shut off the thinking part of himself and let his body react while his renter was beating or using him… or doing whatever it was that got them off – and he'd endured some strange practices in his years of service… because if the renter felt that they'd gotten their money's worth out of him then he didn't get punished… much. It was quite simple, really, when you stopped to think about it.

He knew precisely how far he'd fallen from what he'd once been. He used to be a fierce warrior, a Champion – he'd even saved the world, if he remembered correctly – but now… He was basically a toy. An expensive and highly sought after toy, but a toy nonetheless. He was a pair of holes, an occasional dildo, and a punching bag, and that was all. He had no worth as a sentient being and he knew it. Nobody cared about what he thought or felt or wanted, they only wanted to use him for their pleasure, pay the bill, and go on with their lives until the next time they needed to hurt something. It had taken him a while to realize that fact, but once he had, he'd shut the past away as tightly as he could manage. It didn't do him any good to compare his current existence with his past one. In fact, it made it harder to focus on what he had to do and endure to continue existing at all, so he'd done his level best to stop thinking about it.

Some days were easier than others at accomplishing that feat. On the days where all his attention was occupied by the short term renter currently pounding into his ass or mouth… or both at the same time – sometimes he was rented out to a group, a family, or as entertainment for a party… it was easy to not think about his past. He also didn't allow himself to think about anything but his renter during his longer leases, even during whatever downtime he experienced. He knelt wherever they instructed him to and waited to be used again, but he didn't let his mind wander. That led to slow command obedience which led to brutal punishments, so he made sure to stay focused. But on the days that he wasn't in service or being punished, rare though those days were, his mind wouldn't have anything to concentrate on besides maintaining whatever position he'd been ordered into, and remembering to keep his back straight as he knelt on the floor in the center of the cell he barely spent any time in didn't really take all that much brain power.

He nearly jumped again when something lightly touched his shoulder then slid down his right arm. Fingertips. And they were so gentle, barely even touching him at all. That was unusual. Nobody touched him gently. Even the creatures that were tasked with cleaning him after punishments and preparing him for his next renter caused him as much pain as they could get away with while performing their duties.

His renter unbuckled the cuff on his right wrist then unbuckled the left. He tried not to move, but his fingers twitched a little and then the muscles in his arms started trembling as he worked to keep his hands in the uncomfortable position without the assistance of the restraints. He didn't notice he'd started breathing again until the renter's fingers circled his arms and started pulling them apart.

Pain slammed into him as his muscles screamed at the movement and he tensed, trying to brace himself for more pain as his arms were moved further. The renter stopped applying pressure to his arms, but the command had already been given, so, gritting his teeth, he continued to bring his arms around to the front of his body, moving them into position to be restrained again.

He figured he was going to be hung up for a whipping as his punishment. At least he hoped it would **only** be a whipping and not one of the more inventive punishments his trainer had used in the past. He'd learned quite a lot about what his species could endure over the years, things that would be very interesting to that group of demented scientists that had kidnapped him eons ago.

Some days – actually, most days – he wished he was back in the stark white cell that still made cameo appearances in his nightmares… when he was allowed to sleep. His current existence was far more terrifying than even his worst nightmares, but the horrible things the soldiers and scientists had done to him were **nothing** compared to what his trainer and renters had subjected him to.

He waited, breathing heavily as he tried to maintain position through the painful knotting of his muscles. He'd had his hands restrained behind him for a while and he knew it would take time for his muscles to stop clenching enough to adjust to the new position. And when he was hung up for the whipping, they'd scream so loudly at having to take his weight that he wouldn't even notice the first five or six lashes of the whip.

He was ashamed at having earned a punishment so early into his new lease, and he knew he'd be punished even more by his trainer when the lease was up, no matter how harshly his renter punished him. His trainer loathed being embarrassed by his slaves and would mete out a punishment much greater than however much embarrassment he'd been caused.

He wanted to drop his head in submission, try to let his trainer and renter know that he was sorry he'd disobeyed, but he hadn't been given an order to move, so he stayed still, straining to hold his hands out in front of him. He jumped when his renter's hands touched his forearms and started applying downward pressure. He slowly lowered his arms, trying to figure out what punishment position he was meant to assume, then sat in shock as his renter placed his hands on his thighs and uncurled his fingers, laying them flat.

His fingers were touching his legs. He twitched them slightly, feeling the small hairs on his thighs brushing against the sensitive pads of his fingers, and his shock turned to near awe. His fingers hadn't touched any part of himself other than the palms of his hands in years… possibly decades. He had no idea how long he'd been a slave, but in nearly all that time, he'd been restrained in one fashion or another, not allowed to touch anything at all.

There was a light tap on his left eyelid and his training immediately took over, pushing all other thoughts away save one… I must please my renter. He opened his eyes and bright light bombarded him, causing him to squint as his eyes watered from the assault. He blinked several times, trying to hurry the adjustment along so his renter wouldn't become impatient and punish him for being too slow on top of punishing him for his disobedience.

When his vision cleared, he was sure that he was hallucinating. It couldn't be her. He blinked again and tried to focus his gaze, but it was difficult with his head tipped back the way it was. He was looking at her out the bottoms of his eyes and his brain was disbelieving of what his eyes were telling it. She turned her head slightly, looking at something out of his field of vision, and her mouth moved, then she reached out and tapped his chin. He lifted his head at the command and focused on her properly, still not believing what he was seeing. She was exactly the same as the vision he'd carried around in his head all this time. How was that possible? He'd been a slave for years and years and she looked as if no time had passed at all.

Then she smiled… that soft smile that haunted his thoughts whenever he let them wander down that particular path… and his heart sank. He was meant to service her. He wouldn't be here with his trainer otherwise. She'd purchased his services and had watched the demonstration of his functions, and now he was going to experience pain and degradation at the hands of the one person whose smile gracing his thoughts on occasion had kept him somewhat sane during his slavery.

All thoughts of how she managed to look exactly the same after so many years fled his mind as it tried to reconcile the person he remembered with the reason he was here. She wasn't supposed to be like this, she wasn't supposed to want to hurt people… he was sure he was remembering that part correctly. His heart filled with despair. He **wasn't** a person to her… he was sure he remembered THAT part correctly as well… and now she was going to use him like the toy he was.

He wanted to close his eyes again so he wouldn't have to see her, wouldn't have to watch her take pleasure in his pain, but he hadn't been commanded to, so he stared at her, watching her mouth move as she spoke to someone, probably his trainer. She nodded and he read the words on her lips, "Okay. Do it," and then something touched the back of his neck and everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5 - Back

Sorry I'm late in posting this. I've been dealing with some real life stuff that involved an emergency room visit and an ambulance ride to another state for my teenager. She's okay and should be released from the hospital tomorrow. So, yeah, I've been busy the last couple of days. I'm posting this from my iPad because I'm sitting in a motel room in that other state until it's time for visiting hours, so if the formatting goes wonky, I'll fix it when I get home.

Service Unit  
Chapter Five – Back

The demon stood up from the crate and quietly cleared his throat, "Madam?"

Buffy looked over at him. "Yes?"

"You have requested that he not feel any pain during the removal procedure, and while the procedure is not particularly painful, it does cause a bit of discomfort, so I would like to render him unconscious."

"How would you do that? Because I'm not going to let you hit him or anything."

The demon reached into his torn robes and produced a small black stone. "I simply touch this to the nerve cluster at the base of his skull and he will be rendered unconscious for six hours. It is used when the un... uh... when they are transported to prevent movement and possible damage. I can also use it to wake him, if need be, before the six hours are up."

Buffy nodded. "Okay. Do it."

The demon stepped up behind Spike and touched the stone high up on the back of his neck and he immediately slumped forward. Buffy reached out quickly and grasped his upper arms, lowering him gently to the floor. She rolled him to his back then snagged a pillow off the couch and placed it under his head. Her eyes fell on his still painfully purple erection and she grimaced. "Hurry up and get that crap out of him so I can get that junk off him and get him cleaned up."

"Yes, madam, I will be but a few moments." The demon crouched over Spike's head and inserted a thin silver stick with a bulbous end into Spike's left ear. He twisted a few times then withdrew the stick and tapped it against an outstretched palm. A tiny brown blob that looked like a pebble dropped into the center of his hand.

Buffy leaned over to look at it. "That's what made him deaf?"

The demon nodded then pocketed the pebble and inserted the stick into Spike's right ear, pulling out another pebble. He pocketed that one as well then slid the stick up Spike's left nostril, pulling out yet another pebble, this one red.

The slide up Spike's right nostril produced another red pebble that was quickly pocketed then the demon moved to Spike's right side. "This is the most uncomfortable removal, madam. I will need to cut into his throat to remove the item that resides in his larynx."

Buffy scowled. "And you think that cutting him open is only **uncomfortable**? How much crack do you smoke?"

The demon's brow furrowed and he said in a querulous voice, "Crack?"

Buffy shook her head. "Never mind. Just get it done." She stepped into the kitchen and returned with a small hand towel just as the demon used one of his claws to make a small incision directly above Spike's Adam's apple. The claw was then pressed down hard until it popped through the tough cartilage of Spike's larynx. Spike didn't even twitch as the silver stick was inserted into the opening and twisted.

That pebble was a shiny black and was about three times as large as the others. The demon pocketed the pebble then flipped the stick over and ran it along both openings several times, closing the wounds. Buffy bent down and gently wiped the blood from Spike's neck then stood up and pointed at the chair. "Sit. Stay. I'm going to get him cleaned up and then you and I are going to talk."

"As you wish, madam." The demon scuttled over to the chair and sat down.

Buffy threw him a glare then bent down and hefted Spike into her arms as carefully as she could. She carried him to her bedroom and laid him on top of her comforter then stood back, trying to decide what to do first. He needed to be cleaned; there was blood and lubricant on his thighs and around his anus, and yeah, she'd been intimate with Spike in the past… but not quite THAT intimate.

She sighed. It had to be done. It wasn't like he'd get infected or anything, that wasn't the reason she needed to clean him at all. She could let him be and he'd heal up just fine… physically, anyway… but if she wanted to get her Spike back… the snarky, swaggering, always talking Spike she loved… then she would have to remove any trace of his slavery. Not that she had any experience in rehabilitating vampire sex slaves, but she knew deep in her heart that any reminder would send him back to that mind set and would make his recovery just that much more difficult.

She looked him over critically. He was thinner than she remembered, his muscles much more defined because of that thinness, and his blond hair was gone. His scalp was covered in fine, light brown fuzz, maybe a quarter of an inch long. She sat down next to him then reached out and clasped his slack hand in hers, her eyes welling up as she took in his battered form. "God, Spike. What happened to you? How did you end up like this?"

She let herself cry for a few minutes then sniffled a few times, squeezing his hand as she took a deep breath and stood up, muttering to herself, "As Spike would say, 'Stop dithering and shift your arse, Slayer.'" She used the hem of her shirt to wipe the tears from her face then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, pushing the Buffy side of her back as she let the Slayer side take control. There were things that had to be done and sitting here sniveling wasn't going to make them happen. "That stuff on his... yeah. Need to get rid of that before I do anything else."

She went into the bathroom and came back with a pair of medical scissors from the first aid kit and a damp wash cloth, setting them on the comforter next to Spike. She sat down next to his knee then leaned down and peered at the ring around the base of his penis. It was partially sunken into his flesh and flipping open the catch was probably going to pinch some of it. She didn't want to cause him any more pain, but she had to get that thing off.

Steeling herself, she reached for the clasp and released the ring. Spike's penis jerked once then stilled, semen spilling from the tip in a sluggish stream as it slowly deflated. Once she was fairly sure that he was done, she considered the sizeable puddle on his stomach then looked at the washcloth. Not nearly big enough. He must have been ready to blow for a really long time. She went back into the bathroom and returned with a damp hand towel then quickly cleaned up the puddle, making sure to handle Spike's raw looking penis with care.

He'd deflated enough that the leather straps were now loose, so she cut the couple of straps that connected the ring to the web surrounding his balls then carefully removed the ring and the penis straps and tossed them into the trash can next to the bed. The web around his balls was still tight and she carefully slid the scissors between his skin and the leather then started snipping strips until she'd snipped enough of them to remove the web.

She tossed the bundle of cut leather strips, and the plug that was still attached to them, into the trash can with a grimace of disgust. Time for the next part. She stood up and headed out to the kitchen.

The demon was still sitting in the chair in her living room and Buffy glared at him as she stalked past. She grabbed her plastic dish tub from under the sink and filled it with warm water, adding a sizeable squirt of the lilac scented moisturizing hand soap she kept on the counter. She swirled the soap around in the water until she'd created a few suds then she picked up the tub and went back to the bedroom.

Spike was lying in the exact same position as she set the tub on the floor next to the bed then retrieved a stack of washcloths from the bathroom. She set about cleaning him up, starting at his head and working her way down, tossing the soiled washcloths into the hamper in the corner. He wasn't actually dirty, except for his groin area, but it made her feel better to wash him down. It felt, to her anyway, and she hoped it would to him as well once he woke up, that she was washing away some of the horrible things he'd been through since she'd seen him last.

Once his front half was clean, and thankfully not that damaged, except for his genitals and several deep punctures near his hipbones, she gently rolled him onto his stomach and started at the top again. His back was covered in bruises, welts, punctures, and what looked like claw marks, and she dabbed at the injuries gently, not wanting to disturb the scabs that had formed. She skipped over his rear and moved to his feet, figuring she'd work her way back up and clean that area last. She winced when she reached the backs of his knees, not wanting to know what had caused those deep puncture wounds, but her mind was conjuring up all kinds of disturbing images to explain them. '_Thanks a lot mind_', she thought, '_just what I need… more disturbing on top of all the already disturbing_.'

And then she was there, the site of what was probably his worst physical injury. The extent of his mental injuries wouldn't be revealed until he woke up, and that thought had her closing her eyes as she grimaced in nearly physical pain. She clenched her hands into fists then took a deep, fortifying breath and slowly opened her eyes. She carefully pushed his legs further apart then bent them so he was propped up on his knees, giving her clear access. His entrance was still torn and raw and swollen, but it looked like he'd stopped bleeding. She dipped a fresh washcloth into the water and squeezed it out then laid it gently over his abused hole, hoping the warmth and wet would soak some of the blood and dried lubricant off before she tried wiping anything.

She muttered under her breath as she pulled the cooled washcloth away, "You so owe me for this, Spike. Seriously. I love all of you, but this is a part of you I'd rather not have to deal with, thanks very much." She grimaced again at the blood staining the cloth and tossed it into the trash then snagged a fresh one from the pile. She dipped and wrung then wiped carefully until she could see no trace of blood or lubricant anywhere on his skin. She trashed that cloth as well and took a new one into the bathroom. She ran it under cold water then wrung it out and carried it back into the bedroom, laying it over his hole as a sort of cold compress. "Hopefully that will help with the swelling a little."

She picked up the scissors and leftover washcloths and put them away then she carried the tub of wash water into the bathroom and dumped it into the bathtub, leaning it against the side to dry. The washcloth was still cool when she checked it after dumping the tub, so she pulled the trash bag out of the can and tied it tightly shut then carried it to the incinerator chute in her building's hallway, tossing it down with a small smile of satisfaction.

She didn't even look at the demon when she passed back through the living room, but she did hear him gulp quietly. Apparently he could sense the rage of The Slayer bubbling just below the surface. She smirked slightly as she stepped into the bedroom and pulled the washcloth away then inspected the area. She thought the swelling might have come down a little, but that might just be wishful thinking. She sighed again and tossed the cloth into the hamper. "I'd have to leave it on a lot longer and I don't want to leave you in this position, Spike. It looks uncomfortable. Here, let's get you laid down right, okay?"

She pulled the covers down on the other side of the bed then maneuvered Spike's limp form into position and covered him up. She leaned down and brushed a light kiss across his lips then said quietly, "I'm gonna go talk to that little creep in my living room and then we'll see about waking you up and getting some blood into you, okay? We'll get you back, Spike. I promise."


	6. Chapter 6 - Lost

Service Unit

Chapter Six – Lost

Buffy sat down on the couch and pulled her legs up, curling them underneath her. "Okay. Spill."

The demon blinked all his eyes. "Spill, madam?"

"Yeah. Tell me everything you know about Spike. How you got hold of him, who gave him to you, what you did to him… everything."

"Yes, madam. He was given into service twenty three years ago as payment of a bargain. The original term was ten years, but his owner and my employer made a separate bargain to extend that term and then gift him to you when his service was complete."

Buffy held up her hand. "Two things… first… how did you have him for twenty three years when he was in LA last week and I last saw him like six months ago? And second… Owner? He's not a puppy."

"First, my dimension's time runs differently than your dimension's time. Ten years in my dimension is approximately three days in yours. Second, Mr. Angel was the original owner, and you are a very lucky woman to be gifted such a fine slave. The payments collected for his services have made my employer one of the richest slave owners in several dimensions. You could turn a hefty profit yourself if you were to rent him out when you weren't using him." The demon nodded to the binder still sitting on the couch. "My contact information is in there should you want to contract with some of his regulars. They were extremely saddened when they learned that one of their favorite pleasure slaves was being removed from service. I'm sure they would pay double, possibly triple the normal fee to use him again, and with the time difference, they could use him for years and you'd have him back in a matter of hours."

Buffy nearly vomited all over her couch, but she managed to choke down the bile rising in her throat. She clenched and unclenched her fists and steadied her breathing before she said quietly, her voice getting louder as her anger rose. "I don't think you get it. I do not want to USE him, you slimy little creep, and I sure as hell am not going to RENT HIM OUT! I LOVE him and I swear I'll gut you like a fish if you EVER SAY THAT TO ME AGAIN!"

The demon stammered, "Yes, madam, of course. As his owner, you prefer exclusive rights. I understand. I will not mention it again."

Buffy closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "No, you **don't** understand. I don't OWN him, dumbass, and the only person with exclusive rights to Spike is Spike. At least in this dimension. **Nobody** here owns him, not even Angel… and just as soon as Spike is better, we're going to take a trip to LA and beat that son of a bitch to within an inch of his broody life, Champion of the Powers or not. I mean, I know he doesn't like Spike and they don't really get along, and even I know how freaking annoying Spike can be, but selling him into slavery because he's annoying seems just a bit harsh… you know? I'm kind of wondering if Angel's soul is still in the house. Maybe I should call Wils..."

Buffy stopped talking, but her thoughts kept careening along. How could Angel have done that to Spike? What kind of bargain had he made that would require that kind of payment? What the hell was going on at that law firm of his that would make him think that what he'd done to Spike was even kind of okay? He had to have at least guessed at what kind of shape Spike would be in when he was **gifted** to her after twenty three years of torture and sexual abuse, so what the hell was Angel thinking? WAS he thinking? Or had he lost his mind completely? Had telling him that she loved Spike instead of him broken his little gel-soaked brain?

She had a lot of questions and very few answers, but she swore to herself that she would get those answers. And if Angel's soul had gone walkabout again, well… this time she would have no problem dusting him. She'd ram a stake so far up his ass that he'd choke on the splinters. Let the Powers find themselves a new Champion, because she wasn't about to put everyone through another Angelus episode. Once was way more than enough.

The demon had been watching her warily as she sat there with her eyes closed. He waited what he thought was a respectable amount of time then ventured, "Madam? Are you all right?"

Buffy opened her eyes and looked over at the demon then gave a bitter chuckle. "All right? Really? No. I'm not all right. Not even a little bit." She took a deep breath then laid her head back on the couch. "I'm just trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with Angel, and since it's doubtful you can help with that, let's talk about something you can help with." She rolled her head to look over at the binder. "What else is in there besides disturbing pictures and the hood spell?"

"When ownership of a slave is transferred, the new owner…" Buffy's head lifted as she tensed and the demon held up one hand. "I know you do not wish to be referred to in that fashion, madam, I am merely explaining our procedures." Buffy nodded tightly then motioned for him to continue. "The new owner is provided with a record of the slave's entire history – his training, a list of the clients he's serviced and the services he performed, and any behavior problems and the punishments given to correct those problems. The record also contains instructions for care and maintenance… would you like me to explain those to you at this time?"

Buffy snorted. "I'm pretty sure I can take care of him without being told how to. He drinks blood and mostly stays out of the sun and away from pointy, wooden objects. Vampire 101."

"He has been modified, madam, and no longer feeds like a normal member of his species."

Buffy sighed, "You have got to be kidding me. Modified how? Can he eat normally? Can he even bring up his demon? Or did you take that away from him, too?"

"His demon is intact, madam, but he has not been fed by way of his mouth since he was given into service. A feeding port was installed and he is maintained through the use of specially formulated sustaining fluid. Would you like me to show you how to use it?"

Buffy grimaced yet again and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, wondering if her face would just freeze that way if she kept learning new and revolting things about Spike's slavery. "CAN he feed normally? Does he have to use this 'sustaining fluid' or can he drink blood like a vampire is supposed to?"

"He can drink blood if you would like, but the sustaining fluid has been formulated to accelerate the healing abilities of his species, and it also…"

Buffy cut him off. "If he doesn't need it then the sustaining fluid is going down the incinerator chute along with the toys and the crate, once I finish taking out some of my rage on it. I have blood for him in my fridge and freezer, so as long as he CAN feed normally, he WILL feed normally, and he'll heal up just fine. Now… the feeding port. Where is it and can you remove it?"

"It is located in his navel, and yes, it can be removed. The procedure is painful, so it would be best if I were to do it now, while he is still unconscious."

The demon made to stand up and Buffy held up her hand. "Is there anything else you put into him that needs to be removed?"

The demon started ticking things off on his fingers, having to move to a second hand to complete the list. "Two hearing stones, two scent stones, one vocal stone, feeding port, and…" He paused, a look of fearful trepidation slipping onto his face.

Buffy grimaced… again. "And… what? From the look on your face, I'm not going to like whatever it is, am I?"

The demon gulped and lowered his hands. "No, madam, I fear you will be quite incensed."

"Yeah, well, making me sit here waiting isn't going to make me any less incensed, so spit it out. What else did you put into him?"

"There was a stone implanted into the nerve center at the base of his skull."

"Okay. You made him unconscious by touching him there with some kind of rock… is that what the stone does?"

"No… um…" Buffy sat forward slightly and the demon hurried to continue, "It was installed to amplify the pain he feels."

Buffy yelped, "It does WHAT!?"

The demon stammered as he pressed himself back into the chair. "His species is very sturdy and not easily damaged, and a few of our clients are rather slight and not able to exert the force needed to cause the amount of pain they desire, so the stone was installed."

"So it makes him hurt MORE? How much more?"

"Approximately four to five times the normal amount. For example, something that would normally only be mildly painful, say the insertion of a needle or a small scratch, becomes nearly excruciating because of the stone. Even the lightest of touches will cause pain."

Buffy's eyes widened in horror. "Oh God… did I hurt him when I touched him? I was trying to be careful… did I?"

The demon nodded. "Your touches, especially the sharp taps, caused him pain, yes, but the pain tolerance of his species is fairly high, and is another reason the stone was installed."

Buffy looked slightly green, but she took a deep breath and tried to think. Something had been bothering her since Spike's arrival… well… a **lot** of somethings had been bothering her, but she'd finally figured out what this particular something was. "Okay… jumping off the topic of that stone being one more reason for me to kick your ass up between your ears… Speaking of Spike's species, why can't I feel that he's a vampire? I should have felt that even before I saw him, but I didn't. I still don't, and I could always feel when Spike was around, especially when he was this close to me. What did you do to him to make him not register?"

The demon looked confused. "Register, madam? I don't know what you mean."

"Do you know who I am?"

The demon nodded. "The shipping manifest says that you are Buffy Summers."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, but have you heard of The Slayer?"

The demon's eyes widened. All of them. "The Vampire Slayer? The Chosen One that closed the Hellmouth in California with a souled vampire?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, that would be me. And, actually, Spike closed the Hellmouth, I just helped him."

The demon's eyes flew to the bedroom door then drifted back to Buffy. "I had no idea he was THAT vampire! If I had known, I would have charged double… triple! Oh, the money he could have made! My employ…" Buffy's hand closing around his throat stopped whatever else he'd been planning to say. She squeezed until he held up his hands and shook his head violently. She let him go and backed up a step, tapping her foot while he coughed and tried to clear his throat. "I apologize, madam. I will not mention it again, I promise."

"Damn right you won't." Buffy sat back down on the couch and motioned toward the bedroom. "Now that you know who I am, tell me why I can't sense that there's a vampire in my apartment… especially one I didn't invite in. How did he get across the threshold without an invite?"

"His fangs have been removed."

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "And? He's still a vampire even if he doesn't have fangs."

"Yes, but removing a vampire's fangs sends the demon into hiding until they've nearly grown back, and if the demon stays in hiding long enough, even a vampire of his own line would be unable to sense it. It also negates the need for an invitation because the demon is suppressed. It is a rather effective tool to tame problem slaves of the vampire species. Their bodies still possess the durability and healing capabilities of a vampire, but their defiance and insolence are greatly reduced, if not eliminated entirely."

Buffy blanched. "How long will it take his fangs to grow back?"

"It takes approximately seven months for them to fully grow back in, but we remove them near the six month mark, before they've fully re-grown, to ensure the demon's continued suppression."

Buffy screeched, "You've removed his fangs every six months for the last twenty three years?!"

The demon cowered in his chair and whispered, "Yes?"

Her voice was nearly a snarl. "So when he vamps out, he won't have fangs?"

"He is unable to call forth his demon, but if he could, his fangs would be shorter than usual because he was due for removal nearly a week ago."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, he is **unable** to call forth his demon. He can't vamp out? Why not?"

"The continued removal of his fangs has suppressed his demon to such a degree that it is unable or unwilling to surface."

Buffy's hands were clenched into fists and her voice was very quiet when she asked, "So… how in the hell do you remove a vampire's fangs, anyway?"

The demon gulped again at the malice in her tone, but he managed to stammer, "W..when his demon could still surface, they were pulled. When he stopped being able to call it forth, they were cut out."

Buffy's voice was still very quiet, and that was somehow more frightening than if she had been screaming in rage. "I see. And how long has his demon been hiding?"

The demon gulped… again. "Approximately twenty-one years, madam."

"Uh-huh. And when Spike's fangs grow back in, will the demon come out?"

The trainer started to shake his head then thought better of it and shrugged instead. "It may come out of hiding enough that you would once again be able to sense it, but after being suppressed for so long, it's extremely unlikely that it will ever surface."

Buffy bolted off the couch and ran for the kitchen, barely making it to the trash can before her breakfast rocketed out of her. She knelt by the trash can, resting her head on the cupboard, and started crying. Tears splashed down onto her breakfast as she sobbed and she finally pushed away from the can when the stench started getting to her. She slid across the floor and leaned against the wall by the fridge, her mind whirling as it tried to absorb yet more disturbing information.

Spike's demon was buried so far down that it might never be able to dig its way out, and it had probably dragged what remained of William along with it when it went into hiding. That had to be why Spike had shown no signs of recognition when he'd finally been able to see her. Everything that made him who he was had been buried and the vampire in her bedroom was nothing but an animated corpse, more so now than it had ever been.

Spike had always been dangerous, even when he'd been chipped, and now… he wasn't. He was as helpless as a half-starved kitten. Without his demon, he wouldn't be able to fight his way out of a wet paper bag. He was an empty shell… a life sized, pose-able action figure. She giggled hysterically as she wondered if he had a Kung-Fu grip.

Back in Sunnydale, when he'd made sure to be underfoot just as much as possible, she'd been annoyed whenever he'd shown her his demon. One instance in particular flashed across her mind. They'd been in the Bronze, just after she'd nearly been gutted with her own stake, and Spike had been telling her how he'd killed two Slayers. He'd grabbed her wrist, not nearly hard enough to hurt but just enough to get her attention, then he'd slid into game face, saying something about always having his weapon… and now that weapon was destroyed.

She hadn't really heard what he'd said because even though one part of her had been annoyed at being reminded of what he was; a secret, deeply buried part of her had been admiring his exotically handsome demon features. Yes, his human blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and full lips made for hours of viewing enjoyment as the butterflies in her stomach fluttered around, and even though she wouldn't admit it to herself at the time, she'd thought he was beyond hot and her body had reacted to his presence even as her mind had tried to deny it.

But, as she'd realized far too late, it was his amber eyes, ridges, and the tips of his fangs peeking out from those full lips that made the butterflies in her stomach flutter like they'd been mainlining Red Bull. She'd reacted the same way every time she'd seen his demon – her heart had sped up, her skin had flushed with heat, and her panties had become suddenly damp and sticky. Spike, using his amazingly accurate powers of observation, had told her as much after they'd brought that house down. He'd said, "Vampires get you hot," and she'd jumped right into that river in Egypt and had started paddling for all she was worth, burying those feelings just as deep as she could, because knowing that she was turned on by the demon had horrified her. She'd considered those feelings to be an abomination; contrary to everything she was… everything she stood for.

She banged her head on the wall behind her as she chuckled bitterly at the irony of it all. She'd spent a lot of time since the cratering of Sunnydale figuring herself out, and the news that Spike had survived had come just when she'd given herself permission to feel whatever she chose to feel. She'd accepted that getting all hot and bothered by his demon was just fine, actually, it was normal considering that she wasn't exactly human herself, a fact that had been proven conclusively the one time she'd let herself go while having sex with Riley and had nearly squeezed his penis into pulp with her super-powered Slayer vagina… but now…

Spike had been a Champion, even before he'd gotten his soul and sacrificed himself to save the world. He'd let himself be tortured to protect her sister, he'd thrown himself into fights to protect her and her friends, and he'd even let her vent her rage and frustration on his extremely durable body and fragile heart. But he wasn't a Champion anymore. He wasn't a demon or even a man. He was a slave. He'd been reduced to nothing but a thing… a toy… and her stomach suddenly lurched again at how unfair that was. To both of them. Just when she'd been ready to accept ALL of him, demon and man, and let him fully into her heart, giving him the love he so desperately craved… **this** had to happen.

She choked down the bile as she reached up to snag the dish towel draped through the handle of the fridge. She pressed it to her mouth, briefly trapping the sob that was trying to force its way out, then gave up and buried her face in it, crying for everything that Spike had lost and might never get back.


	7. Chapter 7 - Removed

There is a section in this chapter that is graphic. Technicolor graphic. We get to see some of what Spike experienced in the slave dimension, and being that he's a sex slave being used by demons… well… make sure you're not eating when you read this chapter.

Service Unit

Chapter Seven – Removed

"I am finished, madam."

Buffy lifted her head and looked over at the demon. He was standing next to her bed holding a bloody something that looked like a small funnel attached to a short plastic tube in one hand, and a sickly green stone about the size of a nickel in another. She stood and crossed the room, reaching for the stone. The demon pulled his hand back slightly and Buffy's other hand darted out, grasping the front of his robe. "You will give that to me, along with all the others, or you'll be leaving here with fewer body parts than you arrived with… if you leave here at all."

The demon's throat had to be getting sore by now, what with all the gulping he'd done in the few short hours he'd been in her apartment, but he relinquished the stone then dug in a pocket of his robe and produced the others. Buffy let go of him and crossed the room again, depositing the stones in a small velvet box that she dug out of her dresser drawer. She slid the box into her pocket and turned to face the demon. "Is that absolutely everything that you **installed** in him?"

"Yes, madam. I have removed all foreign objects."

"Great. Get out." The demon started for the door and Buffy called after him. "I meant out of this room, not out of my apartment. I'm not sure if I'm a satisfied customer yet, so park your carcass in your chair and wait. And throw that feeding thing in with the 'toys.' It's going down the incinerator chute, too."

"Yes, madam."

Buffy sat down on the bed next to Spike and gently cleaned the blood off his stomach. She rolled him to his side and cleaned the blood off the back of his neck then tossed the washcloth into the hamper and rolled him onto his back again. She fluffed his pillow and pulled the covers over him then just sat clutching his hand as she stared at his face and thought things over.

Nearly an hour later, she'd formulated the bare bones of a plan. She was smiling as she picked up the phone and made two calls.

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"Hey, Angel, this is Buffy. Just wanted to let you know that Spike made it and thanks for getting him over here. We have a lot of 'catching up' to do, if you know what I mean, so don't call us, we'll call you. Bye!" There was a clatter, some rustling, and a giggle, and then she came back on the line. "Oh, and Spike says, 'Don't expect me back, you prancing wanker, 'cause I'm gonna be busy shaggin' my girl for the foreseeable future.' Bye again!"

There was a click in his ear and Angel pulled the handset away from his head then stared dumbly at it as he let it slip through his numb fingers. "What? How?" He bolted from his desk and stumbled into the elevator, punching the button for the sub-basement nearly hard enough to break it. When the elevator doors opened, he raced to the end of the dank hallway and stopped in front of a gray stone door. He nicked his thumb with a fang then pressed the bleeding digit to a sigil carved into the stone. The door swung open to reveal a room that looked like a high-end hotel suite.

Angel stepped over the threshold, the familiar tingle skating across his skin, and pushed the door closed. He pressed his thumb to the sigil on the back of the door, a different one than on the front, and it glowed with a pale green light. He braced a hand on the wall next to the door when the room started shaking, then waited the thirty or forty seconds it took for the small pocket dimension to close around it.

When the shaking had subsided, Angel felt the dimension snap into place along with the suspension magic. He'd been slightly hungry and had been thinking about calling Harmony for some blood just before Buffy's call, but now his body processes had been slowed enough that he wouldn't need to eat for quite some time.

He was in one of Wolfram and Hart's meeting rooms. They could be decked out in any configuration, from enormous conference room to cozy study or posh hotel room, and the dimension tied to this one had been chosen for its nearly time stopping properties. Time moved so slowly in this dimension that a meeting could last for three decades and only about twenty-four hours would have passed outside the door. The suspension spell had been put into place to save on food costs while the meetings were being held. It could get expensive to feed several demon delegations when their peace negotiations took nearly forty years, so a spell had been developed that would make sleeping, eating, drinking, and eliminating waste unnecessary for at least twenty of this dimension's years.

Everything else worked just fine, though, as Angel had found out when he'd had to kick a pair of succubi out of this room the first time he'd wanted to use it. They'd kidnapped a vampire who worked in the mail room and had been fucking him for nearly fifteen years. It wasn't that he'd been complaining about it or anything, in fact, he'd been more than a little pissed off that Angel was kicking them out, but since Angel was the CEO, his need for the room took precedence.

Whatever entity had been trying to tell him something was wrong hadn't been heard from since he'd agreed to send Spike off as payment of the bargain, and the small, quiet voice that had been whispering to him for months now, not to mention sending him those torture porn visions, had been the one to suggest that Angel ask for something other than money as his cut of Spike's earnings. And Angel had listened, assuming the idea to be his own because the voice had been subtle – taking its time and not pushing for too much too soon.

The images provided by the crystal the old man had given him had taken the place of the visions in his head, and as a consequence, Angel hadn't gotten very much actual work accomplished this past week because he'd spent most of it in this room, watching Spike being beaten, tortured, and raped. Other than three or four trips to his penthouse to eat and shower, Angel had spent so much time watching Spike that he had favorite scenes he liked to play over and over again.

He fumbled the crystal from his pocket as he moved to an overstuffed chair next to the bed and dropped down into it. He held the crystal in his palm and said the words to activate it, "Let me see Spike's last lease, starting halfway through the first day."

An image flickered to life above the stone in his hand, as clear and sharp as if he were watching it on the high definition big screen television in his penthouse. Spike was naked, as usual, his hands bound behind him, also as usual, and he was bent over a rough wooden table. The large, red, scaly demon standing behind Spike was pumping in and out of him with abandon while the bluish tinted demon standing in front of Spike was grasping his hooded head in two clawed hands as he vigorously used his mouth.

The red demon was also punching whatever part of Spike's back he could reach, changing up the punches every so often with a swipe of his claws. He finished first, sinking his claws into Spike's hips as he pulled back then plunged deep, roaring his completion at the ceiling. He pulled out of Spike and Angel smiled as he saw the short backwards facing barbs on the end of Red's penis catch on Spike's sphincter and tear it. Red backed up and watched the blood and his seed drip out of Spike's torn hole while he waited for Blue to finish.

Blood poured down Spike's chin when Blue's barbed penis slid out of his throat, then Red reached out and jerked Spike up by the cuffs around his wrists. Spike's arms lifted at a painful angle as he tried to get his feet under him, but Red pushed him to his knees before he'd managed it then shoved him toward a third demon who was reclining on the floor on some kind of cushion.

She was sort of greenish – oh look, a veritable rainbow of demons – and was holding a smaller demon to her chest, obviously an infant of their species. It was small when compared to the other demons, but Angel guessed it had to be about the size of a German Shepherd. She pulled the infant's mouth away from her breast, causing it to wail loudly, then turned it so it was facing Spike, propping it up on the cushion before getting up and moving into the kitchen.

Angel could see the bindings around Spike's cock and balls and the cock ring that was meant to keep him erect. Red pushed Spike a little closer to the infant and its mouth latched hard onto Spike's cock, alternately sucking and biting, and it reached out and started squeezing Spike's balls with its clawed hand like it was milking a cow. Red reached between Spike's legs and grabbed the plug that dangled there then stuffed it into Spike before pushing some buttons on a remote he held in his other hand.

Spike tensed and started trembling and the infant started sucking, biting, and squeezing harder. Spike wasn't giving it any nourishment, but apparently his cock served the infant as a pacifier and teething ring, and even without being able to see Spike's face, Angel could tell how much pain the infant was causing him.

Spike's body was trembling in agony as the infant continued, but he held the position he'd been put into until the infant fell asleep nearly an hour later. Red had apparently been waiting for that because he was next to Spike almost immediately, after having had a meal and a short nap, and he jerked him back to his feet and dragged him over to the table.

Spike was once again bent over the table and the plug removed, but Red didn't plunge his already hard cock into Spike right away. Instead, he dragged the barbed tip over Spike's buttocks, the backs of his thighs, and his bound balls as Blue stepped up in front of Spike. He lifted Spike's torso off the table then reached down and pulled Spike closer to it by his penis, smacking it down hard on the surface. Spike's mouth opened in a howl of pain as he was bent forward over it, sandwiching the painfully swollen organ between the table top and his stomach.

Red pressed down hard on Spike's lower back and kicked his legs out from under him so that he was resting his entire weight on his penis before slamming in to the hilt in one vicious thrust. He pulled all the way out and gave Spike's exposed balls several sharp slaps with the back of his hand then plunged in again, setting a punishing pace. Blue once again used Spike's mouth brutally, shoving his barbed cock as far down Spike's throat as it would go.

When they were done, they switched places and took Spike again then Blue stuffed the plug back into Spike and turned it on high before lifting him off the table and shoving him toward Red. Blue grunted something then shuffled over to a bed in the corner and flopped down. Red woke the sleeping female and told her to feed and store the toy for the night then he stumbled past her and flopped down next to Blue.

The female threw what Angel assumed to be a rude gesture in their direction then got up off the cushion and dragged Spike over to the opposite corner where a medium sized wooden crate sat. She dug in the crate and pulled out a plastic pouch of yellowish liquid then unfolded a small tube from the side and plugged it into the port in Spike's belly button. She squeezed the pouch until it was empty then unplugged it and tossed it into the corner. She shoved Spike toward a ring bolted to the wall then turned him around and clipped his cuffs to it before moving over to her cushion and settling down next to the sleeping infant.

Angel kept watching, telling the crystal to fast forward through some parts, like when Spike was standing there trembling while the demons slept, or when he was kneeling there trembling because the infant had been attached to his cock for hours. Watching Spike tremble wasn't all that exciting, but even with the fast forwarding, Angel had noticed that the demons followed a fairly predictable pattern.

After healing while they slept, Spike would be virgin tight again and they would start the day by brutally fucking him at both ends before giving him to the infant to use while they recovered enough to take him again. The cycle would repeat an average of eight times over the course of the day, until they dropped exhausted into bed. The female didn't seem to have much interest in Spike, aside from having him keep the infant occupied while she slept or did other things, but Red and Blue made use of him just as many times as they physically could. Angel had to appreciate their stamina.

Angel figured the day he was watching now had to be the last day of the lease. Red and Blue had already had Spike twice, with a three hour long break between uses that they'd spent sleeping. The infant was currently gnawing on Spike's cock while Red and Blue took another nap, but instead of making food or napping on her cushion, the female started cleaning up Spike's storage area. She tossed all the empty feeding bags into the crate then nailed the lid on and carried it over to the door. Then she went outside and dragged in large washtub that she put in the center of the room. She gathered up a hose and some cleaning implements and set them next to the tub then went back to her cushion and napped until Red and Blue woke up.

When Red and Blue finally did, they rallied to take Spike once more, this time on his back on the table. Blue was using Spike's cock as a handle as he drove into him, making sure to smash his protruding pelvic bone square into Spike's balls on every thrust. Red took Spike's mouth that time, bending his head back far enough over the edge of the table that Angel thought he'd break Spike's neck. Red was holding Spike's legs up by digging his claws into the soft flesh behind Spike's knees and using them to brace himself as he pistoned in and out of Spike's mouth. They both lasted a lot longer than Angel thought they would, pounding into Spike for nearly an hour before they climaxed.

They dragged themselves to the bed and collapsed onto it, leaving the female with the task of cleaning the toy before it was returned to its owner… and she wasn't happy about it. She left the sleeping infant on her cushion and walked over to the vampire still lying on the table with his legs in the air. He was a stinking mess. He hadn't been cleaned at all in three weeks and he was caked in dirt, fresh and dried blood, and fresh and dried demon seed.

She pulled his legs down and roughly jerked him to his feet then shoved him toward the tub. She lifted him into it then picked up the hose, attaching one end to the kitchen sink and shoving the other end nearly a foot up Spike's ass. She turned the hot tap on full blast, letting the scalding water fill him and drip out as she used a scrub brush to clean the rest of him, paying special attention to his cock and balls and making sure to scrub them extra hard. She even scrubbed the inside of Spike's mouth, pushing the brush as far down his throat as the handle would allow.

When he'd been thoroughly scrubbed, the hose was yanked out of his ass and used to rinse him off and then he was left kneeling on a stack of towels to drip dry as the rest of the water inside him dribbled out. The infant woke up while the female was cleaning up the tub and she moved the stack of towels and the vampire kneeling on it over to the cushion, giving the infant Spike's cock until the trainer arrived with the crate.

Angel rewound the part that showed the trainer walking around Spike and assessing his condition to see if the renters had violated their contract. Spike was standing where the washtub had been and Angel thought he looked like thirty miles of bad road. He'd seen Spike beat up before, hell, he'd done quite a bit of the beating up when Spike had been a fledge, and there was no way that the Spike who had been packed into that crate was in any kind of shape to be insulting him and 'catching up' with Buffy only a few hours later.

After watching Spike's training and service, Angel knew that the younger vampire was nothing but a broken, desiccated shell of what he'd once been. His training had been brutal, even by Angelus' standards. He'd been whipped and beaten into a nearly unrecognizable lump, he'd been repeatedly raped by his trainer and numerous other demons, he'd been starved, had his fangs pulled, sprayed with holy water, had a cross strapped to his penis for three days, and he'd had his hearing, his voice, and his ability to scent taken from him.

His fangs being pulled for the fourth time had happened on the same day his voice had been taken, and the two combined had apparently been the thing that had finally broken him completely. He'd stopped fighting back after that and had started obeying the commands he was given. There was nothing of the old Spike left in the body that walked around wearing his face. Nothing at all. So something was fishy. Either Buffy was lying, or what the crystal was showing him wasn't right, and Angel meant to find out which one it was.

He was about to replay the trainer's inspection again to see if there was anything he'd misjudged about Spike's condition when something occurred to him. If the crystal could show him Spike's slavery, couldn't it show him what Spike was doing now?

He held up the crystal and said, "Let me see Spike with Buffy." Nothing happened.

He said, "Let me see what Spike is doing now." Nothing.

He tried, "Let me see Spike in Rome." Nope.

He squeezed his hand around the crystal, nearly crushing it in his frustration, then forced himself to loosen his grip. He held up the crystal and spoke one last time, using the very first words he'd ever spoken to the crystal. "Let me see Spike."

He very nearly chucked the crystal across the room when nothing happened, but managed to restrain himself. Apparently the crystal would only show him events that had taken place in the slave dimension, but just to be sure it wasn't broken, he held it up again and muttered, "Let me see Spike's first renter, halfway through the lease."

An image flickered to life that showed a naked Spike hanging from his bound wrists as a snake-like demon circled him. The demon's whip-thin tail snapped out, lashing across Spike's back and leaving a line of blood as Spike arched in pain, his mouth open in a silent howl. The demon's forked tongue flicked along the line, lapping up the blood while tears dripped from Spike's eyes and his chest heaved with silent sobs. Then the tail snapped out again, this time across Spike's lower belly.

Angel closed his hand over the crystal, stopping the playback. That had gone on for five straight days, and by the time Spike's trainer had shown up to collect him, Spike had been covered from head to toe in overlapping lash marks and he'd been nearly bled dry.

Angel leaned back in the chair. So, the crystal wouldn't show him anything that had happened since Spike had left the slave dimension. That presented a problem. He'd meant for Spike to be so broken and useless when he was delivered to Buffy that she'd either stake him to put him out of his misery or send him back to LA for Angel to deal with. Either way, Spike would be out of Buffy's life for good, although Angel had hoped she'd pick the second option. He looked over at the corner of the room, frowning at the chains, manacles, and table piled with torture instruments he'd brought down for that reason, and wondered how in the hell Spike was healthy enough to be 'catching up' with Buffy.

He really needed to find out what was going on, but first he needed a little… relief. His cock was hard enough to pound nails and only his confusion over Buffy's phone call had prevented him from letting himself go while he'd watched Spike's last lease, but now… if he didn't do **something**, he'd never be able to concentrate long enough to figure anything out.

He pocketed the crystal and let himself out of the meeting room then hurried back to his office. He reached for the still dangling handset then hung it up and punched a button on the phone. "Harmony, cancel the rest of my appointments for today… and tomorrow. You know what? Clear my schedule for the next week. I've got some things to do and then I'll be going to Rome."

"But, Boss… you're supposed to meet with that delegation about their clan war, and there's those treaties to sign, and Wesley needs to talk to you about that research, and Gunn needs you to sign a deposition, and…"

"Just do it, Harmony." He punched the button again to stop her whining then headed back to the meeting room, bouncing the crystal on his palm.

Once he was settled on the bed just as naked as the day he was born, he laid the crystal on the mattress beside him then took his cock in hand and said, "Let me see Spike's seventh punishment." The image appeared and he started stroking as he groaned, "I always did like hot pokers."

XX

XXXX

XX

Nearly three meeting room days later, Angel was still in bed, still naked, and still tossing off to Spike's greatest hits. Something had been niggling at the back of his mind throughout it all, though, and he finally realized what it was as he watched a bulky demon impale Spike on his massive cock. Angel could clearly hear the grunts and groans of the demon as he lifted Spike then slammed him back down over and over, but even though Spike's head was thrown back and his mouth was open in a howl of agony, he wasn't making any noise.

Angel shot to a sitting position as he slapped his hand down on the crystal, ending the playback. He threw on his clothes and bolted for the door, muttering to himself, "He has no voice! I watched his trainer take it from him! So how in the hell did he **SAY** anything? He didn't! Buffy is lying!"


	8. Chapter 8 - Awake

The next few chapters bounce back and forth between Buffy's point of view and Spike's.

The differing points of view have been separated by this – XXXX. I hope this isn't too confusing.

Service Unit

Chapter Eight – Awake

As he slowly came back to consciousness, the muzzy feeling in his head told him exactly what had happened. His trainer had knocked him out for transport, and that could only mean one thing, especially so early into a new lease… he'd displeased his renter to such a degree that his contract had been terminated early.

This was only the third time that had happened to him. The first time hadn't been his fault. His orifices had been incompatible with the appendages of his renter, so another slave had been brought in to fulfill the contract, but the second time… He hadn't meant to bite down, but the renter had tapped him on the top of his head and his training had kicked in before his brain could process the fact that he had something delicate pushed halfway down his throat. The punishment session he'd endured after that incident still gave him nightmares.

He started trembling in fear at the thought of what his trainer would do to punish him this time. He sincerely wished that he had obeyed that command, but he still didn't know what it was that she'd wanted him to do. Whatever it was, not doing it had displeased her enough that she'd decided to send him back instead of punishing him herself and continuing the lease. For some reason, that made him feel slightly better. He couldn't remember her name, but he could remember HER, and he'd rather be punished for weeks by his trainer than have to suffer at HER hands. He was gladdened by the thought that she **wasn't** the type of person who took pleasure in the sorts of things his renters had done to him over the years.

In fact, once he thought about it, she hadn't really hurt him at all. Yes, her touches had been painful, but not very, and not at all like the pain he usually experienced when a renter touched him with their hands or claws or tentacles or whatever type of appendages they possessed, and he didn't get the feeling that she'd been **trying** to cause him pain.

A thought suddenly struck him. Maybe the lease hadn't been terminated because he'd disobeyed… maybe she'd terminated it because she knew him and didn't want him servicing her. She'd watched the entire demonstration after all, when she couldn't see his face and didn't know who he was. He was just her new pleasure slave then, but as soon as she'd seen his face… that's when she'd instructed his trainer to take him away. He suddenly felt a pang of bitter disappointment that she'd decided to send him back, though, instead of helping him. He knew she helped people, but then again, he wasn't people, was he? And he wasn't fit to be in her company… not now… not after all that had been done to him, all the things he'd done in service to his renters. He was a thing, not a person… so there was no reason for her to want to help him.

His head was starting to hurt. He wasn't used to thinking about things this much. If he just did what he was told when he was told and focused all his energy on pleasing his renters and trainer then his existence was easier to bear. Thinking about what he'd lost and the people he'd known didn't do anything but bring into stark clarity the fact that nobody at all cared about him or what had happened to him. He'd been a slave for years, probably decades, and nobody had even bothered to look for him, much less try to free him from his slavery. Maybe that's why she was sending him back, because she knew exactly what was happening to him now and thought it a fitting punishment for things he'd done before he'd become a slave.

His stomach was starting to hurt right along with his head at the feelings of anguish and despair his thoughts were stirring up, so he tried to stop thinking altogether as he lay there with his eyes closed. A sudden chirping noise helped him do that when it startled him into complete stillness, not that he would've moved anyway. He'd been placed in this position and in this position he would remain until ordered to do otherwise, but… the noise sounded again and he drew in a shocked breath.

He could hear.

He lay perfectly still, stopping his breathing as he listened. He hadn't heard anything for so long that he wasn't quite convinced he actually **had** heard something until it sounded again and his brain automatically put a picture with the noise. A bird. He could hear a bird.

He immediately started taking stock, pushing all thoughts of her and his past out of his mind. He was lying flat on his back on something soft, and something soft and slightly heavy was covering him from collarbones to toes. He was still in pain, mostly located in his nether regions and abdomen, but it had lessened considerably, almost to the point of being unnoticeable. He twitched his hands ever so minutely and his fingertips brushed against fabric, and his hands weren't restrained. He nearly started panicking at that. It had been years and years since he'd been left unrestrained for more than a moment or two, not since the very early days of his training.

He took a deep breath through his nose to try to calm himself and nearly started panicking again. He could smell something. It was a sweet fragrance, and his brain supplied a picture of a purple flower and the word 'lilac.'

He inhaled deeply, taking in other scents that his brain supplied the pictures and words for. Vanilla, lavender scented fabric softener, grass, sand, the ocean, bacon… and blood. His mind whirled and he started panting, unconsciously clutching at the fabric he was lying on with his fingers.

Another sound startled him and he stilled again. There were footsteps coming closer. He had to fight the sudden urge to move his hands into the proper position. He wasn't allowed to be unrestrained and if the person coming toward him found him like this, he'd be punished. Severely. He tensed, clutching the fabric in his fists to keep himself where he was as the footsteps paused long enough for him to hear a door open. They started up again, steadily getting closer, and he forced himself to stay still. He didn't want to be punished at all, but since he still had a punishment for disobedience on his schedule for the day, it would be better to only add a punishment for being unrestrained instead of adding that **and** a punishment for moving without command.

It was too late to move his hands into the proper position now, anyway. He felt the presence of someone standing next to him and could smell their scent… the same lavender scent as the fabric he was lying on… and something else. Something powerful and intoxicating.

"Spike?"

He jumped. Then he waited. The person (a woman, based on the voice, his brain supplied helpfully) moved closer, and he felt what he was laying on (a bed) shift as she sat down next to him. Something thumped somewhere near his head (a mug being set down on a wooden table) and he could smell the warm, heady scent of blood. His mouth started to water and he swallowed heavily, his stomach cramping with hunger.

He swallowed again, wondering if maybe that blood was for him, if he'd get to taste it, swallow down its rich, thick nourishment, because even though he couldn't recall the last time he'd tasted any blood other than his own, his body apparently remembered it quite well and **wanted** it. But then reason kicked in and he forced himself to stop breathing so he wouldn't be able to smell it anymore. The only things he'd swallowed since he'd been made a slave had been his own blood and gallons upon gallons of demon spunk, neither of which did anything to nourish or heal him. Since he'd woken up at the slave compound, he'd subsisted on a thick yellow goo that made his guts cramp in pain every time it was squeezed into his feeding port. So no, that blood wasn't for him to eat. It couldn't be. It was just a new way for his trainer to punish him. Give him his sense of smell back and then taunt him with something he'd never be allowed to have.

He waited, wondering how he'd be punished further, then he jumped again when the woman he'd very nearly forgotten about laid her hand on his arm.

"Spike? I know you're awake. Please open your eyes."

He was torn. He'd been given a command… sort of… but he hadn't been trained to follow verbal commands and he didn't know if he should follow that one or not.

Another voice sounded from further away. "He doesn't respond to verbal commands, madam. You will have to use touch commands until he has acclimated to being able to hear again."

There was a tap on his eyelid and he immediately opened his eyes then blinked against the light. When his vision cleared, he looked up at the woman sitting next to him. It was her. He cut his eyes toward where the other voice had come from. His trainer.

Something wasn't right here and a deep well of fear burbled up from his stomach. Why was he unrestrained? His trainer had knocked him out and only did that in a renter's presence when he was about to be transported. Was she still his renter? This was her personal space, by the scent, and if she was still his renter, then he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be lying on her bed. It wasn't allowed. He looked at her again, then back to his trainer, then at the floor – making sure to move only his eyes and nothing else – hoping that one of them would order him off the bed, or even better, out of the room. He didn't notice that he'd started trembling hard enough to shake the bed as he kept cycling his gaze between them.

XXXX

Buffy looked over at the demon and asked, "What's wrong with him? He looks terrified."

The demon nodded. "He is. He knows he's not allowed to be where his renter sleeps. When he's not servicing a renter, he maintains whatever position the renter places him in or remains in his last position of service until the renter wants to use him again. But under no circumstances is he allowed in a renter's personal space. It's part of the contract. He shouldn't even be in this room and he knows it. And he knows he'll be punished for it. That's why he's terrified."

"But I put him here! Why would **he** be punished for something **I** did?"

"He is a slave, madam. He knows only what he's been trained to know. Rented slaves are not allowed to be in their renter's personal space, even if it was the renter that put them there. And even if the renter is the one that violates the contract, the slave is the one punished for the violation. It is the way of things, however, once the transfer of ownership from my employer to you has been completed; he will do whatever you tell him to do and go wherever you tell him to go. But until he understands that you are his owner and not a renter, he will continue to follow the rules for rented slaves."

"But I don't own him! I don't WANT to own him!"

The demon shrugged. "Then you must store him elsewhere, madam, or he will continue to live in fear of punishment for your actions. He doesn't understand that he has been released from service. And, by the way, rented slaves that have been released from service do not fare well if they are not claimed by a new owner."

Buffy stood up from the bed and stalked over to the demon. "How many rented slaves have been released from service?"

"Several. Most are given into service for their entire lives, and as long as they continue to be requested for rental, they remain in service. Occasionally, there are those that are only meant to serve for a specified length of time before they are released, but any released slave that is not claimed by a new owner usually dies because they are not able to think for themselves any longer, and if not cared for and fed, they will starve."

Buffy's shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor. "So if I want him to live, I have to own him? Tell him what to do?" She looked up at the demon. "Will he ever get back to the person he was before Angel sold him into slavery? Have ANY released slaves gotten their lives back?"

The demon nodded. "One that I know of, another vampire, but it took some time before it could act on its own without being ordered. Its training took almost as long as his did," he nodded toward Spike, "because it was nearly as stubborn and strong-willed, but it was also in service over twice as long. Its family took it back once it had paid their debt, but being that vampires aren't exactly known for their caring natures, it didn't have someone as devoted to its rehabilitation as you are to his."

Buffy smiled faintly. "So, you're saying that because Spike is unbelievably stubborn… and because I'm almost as stubborn… that he has a good chance of getting back to what he was because he wasn't a slave as long as the other guy?"

"I suppose it's possible, madam, although I don't know why you would want him to revert to his previous personality. If you knew how hard I worked to mold him into the fine pleasure slave he is…"

The demon's head bouncing off Buffy's bedroom wall stopped the noise spilling out of his mouth. Buffy leaned close as she tightened her hand around his throat. "Are you stupid or something? Have I not made it clear that I DON'T want a SLAVE? That I want my Spike back? The annoying, chain-smoking, snarking, pain in my ass that loves me? That I would give anything right now to have him slouched on my couch, clogging up my apartment with stinky cigarette smoke while he watches Passions, drinks whiskey, and yells at the TV? God! I'd buy him the damn cigarettes if he'd just…"

She stopped ranting and let go of the demon's neck, taking a step back. "Okay. I get that you're proud of the work you did to turn Spike into a slave, but here's the thing… You have to make me a satisfied customer, right?" The demon nodded. "Good. So you're staying here with us and doing absolutely everything you can to undo all that work. I don't care how long it takes, but you are not leaving here until he…" she pointed at the terrified vampire on the bed, "is a walking, talking, eating, snarking, smoking, fighting, loving, annoying pain in the ass vampire. You get me?"

The demon managed to choke out through its abused throat, "Yes, madam, I understand."

"Great. Let's get to work."


	9. Chapter 9 - Transfer

Service Unit

Chapter Nine – Transfer

"I have to do WHAT to become his owner? Are you crazy? I'm not going to do that to him!"

"It is required for the transfer, madam. If you do not assume ownership, then you will never return him to what he was. He needs you to be responsible for him until such time as he can take over that responsibility. Once he has reached that point, you may perform another ownership transfer and give him ownership of himself, if you like. It is the only way. If you do not, then he will remain a slave."

Buffy looked at the naked vampire currently kneeling in her living room. The trainer had done the tapping and guiding to get him out of her bedroom, and he did seem to be much calmer now, but he still hadn't responded to anything she'd said to him or given any sign that he even knew who she was. He just knelt there, staring at the floor with his arms behind his back, his wrists once again cuffed together.

Buffy sighed. "Fine. I'll do it. If it will help him, I'll do it." She looked over at the demon that was standing next to one of the smaller crates. "And when I do, will I be able to get him to respond when I talk to him? Will he be able to talk back?"

The demon nodded. "If you wish him to respond, madam, he will, although I doubt his responses will make much sense. He is not very bright, you see. It took many repetitions of basic commands and many different punishments for failing to follow those commands before he finally understood what he was meant to do."

Buffy said very quietly, "I swear, you little cretin, if you EVER talk about Spike like that again…" then she found out what color the demon's blood was when her fist flew out and punched him square in his left nose. He landed in a heap behind Spike, a Spike who didn't even twitch as the demon flew over his head. She took a step toward him, her hands clenched into fists. "He's smarter than you are! He writes poetry, for fuck's sake! And he completely understood what you were trying to train him to do, you moron! He was just fighting back the only way he could! He was trying to make training him so hard that you'd get tired of trying and let him go! He managed to escape a Hell God by insulting her enough that she punched him through a door! And he'd have been insulting you with every breath if you hadn't taken his voice!"

XXXX

It took almost everything in him not to duck as his trainer flew over his head, and then he held himself rigid when she started shouting, trying desperately not to flinch.

His terror at being in his renter's personal space and then his relief at being ordered off her bed and out of her room had caused him to not hear anything that had been said. He'd been ordered to his knees and restrained again and that had brought another surge of relief. He was back on familiar ground and knew what he was supposed to do.

But then he'd just been left kneeling there, and the words that had previously washed over him started to stick. He'd been listening intently to their conversation for the last few minutes, and even though it irritated him that they were speaking about him as if he wasn't there, he accepted it because what else could he do? He was a slave, and showing any reaction to the words being spoken would only result in punishment for moving without permission.

The talk of ownership transfer troubled him, as he had no idea what that meant for him since he'd only been owned by his trainer for the whole of his slavery, but he smiled inwardly when his renter defended his intelligence. He **wasn't** stupid and she'd been right about why he'd acted the way he had during training. It had failed miserably, of course, and they'd finally broken him and had turned him into the pathetic creature he now was.

XXXX

The demon sat up, holding his bleeding nose with one hand while he raised the rest of his hands in supplication. "I apologize, madam, but please understand, I am a slave trainer, one of the best in my dimension, and as such, I am experiencing great difficulty in conforming to your views on the subject. I believe I now understand your stance on the matter and will try to temper my comments to conform to that ideal. But please, could you refrain from causing damage to my person?"

Buffy snorted. "Not a snowball's chance in hell. Like you said, you're a slave trainer, and I'm sure you've used pain as a training tool on Spike, so the next time your mouth drives off before your brain is buckled up, you'll get the same kind of treatment you gave him. Sucks to be on the other side, huh? Now get off your ass and let's get this transfer done."

The demon nodded and stood up, wiping the blood from his nose with a torn bit of his robe. "As you wish, madam." He stepped up in front of Spike, holding the long, black stick in one hand.

"Hang on."

The demon turned to face her. "Yes?"

"You said that you have to transfer Spike's ownership from your employer to me, but how can **you** do that? Wouldn't your employer have to do that?"

"No, madam. You see, I own him," he motioned to Spike, "and because my employer owns me, he also owns anything I own, but I am able to transfer ownership of my slaves if he approves the transfer, which he has."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense, in a really sick and wiggy way. Go ahead."

The demon nodded then turned and tapped Spike on the hip and shoulder and Spike rose gracefully to his feet, keeping his eyes down until he was tapped on the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes as the trainer reached up and clasped a leather collar around his neck with two hands while another reached down and wrapped around his penis, bringing it quickly to full hardness. The trainer wrapped a leather ring around the base then moved around behind Spike and tapped him on the back of the neck. Spike knelt again and bent forward, pressing his forehead against the floor.

Buffy blanched, quickly swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat as the demon shoved all the fingers on one hand – heavily lubricated at her insistence – into Spike and thrust them in and out nearly two dozen times. Spike barely flinched, and he only tensed up a little, so at least she knew that the pain amplification was really turned off and he wasn't hurting as much as he had been.

The demon removed his fingers then tapped Spike on the hip and ankle, bringing him to a sit-kneel. He stepped in front of the vampire and tapped his bottom lip, thankfully not with the hand he'd just had buried in Spike's ass, and Spike opened his mouth. The demon thrust two fingers into Spike's mouth and Spike started sucking on them. The demon let him continue for a minute or two then withdrew his fingers and reached out to tap Spike on the top of his head then the back of his neck. Spike closed his mouth as he bent forward and raised his backside, once again pressing his forehead against the floor.

XXXX

He smothered the smile that wanted to burst forth when his renter threatened to give his trainer the same kind of treatment he'd been receiving during his slavery. Well… not the **same** treatment, obviously, but similar, he supposed. He sincerely doubted that she could perform most of the acts his trainer had perpetrated on his body. For one, she didn't have the right appendages, and for two, she wasn't as depraved and sadistic as his trainer was. At least he didn't remember her being that way.

He'd been thinking too hard again and had missed the rest of the conversation. A set of taps on his hip and shoulder caused his training to override his thoughts and he rose to his feet, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of his toes. And there was the command ordering him to close his eyes. His trainer only let him keep them open when he wanted to taunt him with whatever torture tool he was about to use, or let him see the size of the cock on the next creature that had been ordered to rape him as part of a punishment.

He felt his familiar leather collar being fastened around his neck while another of his trainer's hands closed on his cock and started stroking and squeezing roughly. What was going on? The reassertion of ownership was never performed in the presence of a renter. It was only done at the end of a lease once he'd been unpacked from his crate at the slave compound. A frisson of fear wormed through him and he wished he'd been listening to what they'd said. Maybe then he'd know what was going to happen to him.

His body didn't need to know what was going on, though, because it responded as it had been trained to, his cock filling and rising from the contact even though it was painful. His trainer wrapped a ring around the base to keep him erect then ordered him into the display position.

He knew what was going to happen next. And he knew it would hurt. It always did. And this time it would hurt a lot more than usual because he hadn't been wearing his plug, so his slightly healed hole was dry and unprepared. His trainer was a rather small demon with a disproportionally huge cock. A cock that would split him nearly in two when the trainer reasserted ownership of his slave's ass by ramming in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. His blood would ease the way for the rest of the pounding he was about to receive until his trainer's acidic semen exploded into him and started burning with an intensity akin to holy water. Thankfully it didn't burn for very long, and didn't cause any permanent damage, but while it was active, he'd be writhing on the floor in agony as it felt like his guts were being melted into sludge.

He took a deep breath and held it, trying to brace himself for the agony that was about to rip through his body. He flinched slightly and his breath left him in a startled gush when he felt fingers enter him instead. Lubed fingers. He tensed in pain as they stretched his abused hole, but the amount of pain wasn't anything near what it usually was. Compared to the pain he usually felt when he was breached, the thrusting fingers were almost a gentle caress.

They'd bumped his prostate for the fifth or sixth time and he was actually starting to enjoy the thrusting when the fingers slid out of him and a few taps commanded him back to a sit-kneel. The trainer stepped in front of him and tapped his bottom lip and he had no idea what to expect next, no idea at all. A normal ownership assertion would have his trainer shoving that massive cock down his throat, fucking his face for hours while his trainer built back up to another explosive climax that would leave him writhing on the floor in agony again while he waited for the acid to stop burning. But since his trainer hadn't taken his ass, he didn't know what was going to happen now, and the not knowing was terrifying.

Two slim fingers slipped into his mouth and he immediately started fellating them. He curled his tongue around them and between them and sucked, just like he'd been trained to do whenever anything was inserted into his mouth. After a few moments the fingers were withdrawn and his trainer tapped on his head then the back of his neck. He closed his mouth and assumed the display position, his mind a roaring tidal wave of confusion and terror as he waited to see what would happen next.


	10. Chapter 10 - Owned

Service Unit

Chapter Ten – Owned

The demon stepped away from Spike and held out the stick to Buffy. She took it reluctantly and looked over at Spike as the demon asked, "Have I explained the transfer procedure to your satisfaction, madam?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. You've just claimed him as his owner by putting your collar on him and demonstrating your possession of and control over his body, especially the…" she swallowed down some more bile, "…parts of his body used in his service as a pleasure slave." She took a deep breath and continued, "He only wears the collar when he's… ugh… 'at home' just sounds so wrong. That place is NOT his home… ugh… whatever. He only wears the collar when he's at home. When he's being rented out, the collar comes off, meaning to him that his owner is allowing others to use his property however they want… within the limits of the contract of course… your dimension must be a really repulsive place to live, by the way, and when his lease is up, he goes 'home' and the collar is replaced, meaning to him that he is once again his owner's exclusive property."

The demon nodded. "You grasp the details quite well, madam."

Buffy snorted. "Yeah… I'm a fabulous student. Blech. I'd rather be learning freaking French or something right now. And I hate French." Buffy tightened her grip on the stick in her hand. "So now I have to claim him as his owner by removing your collar and putting mine on. Then I have to do all the things you did, but instead of just making him hard, I have to…" She paused to swallow down more bile– she really needed a Tums or something to calm the acid in her stomach – before taking another deep breath and continuing, "I have to make him come, to show that I control any pleasure he feels as a non-renting-him-out owner. Right? That will show him that he's only mine and he'll understand that nobody else will get to… ugh… use him?"

"Yes, madam. What you do during the transfer will tell him what kind of slave you expect him to be."

"Ugh… have I mentioned the ugh? I really, really, really don't want to do this to Spike. God, this is so very disturbing." She stepped away from Spike and sat down on the couch, letting the stick fall onto the floor at her feet as she dropped her head into her hands.

The demon looked perplexed and he stared at her for a few minutes before speaking quietly, "I do not mean to upset you, madam, but I do not understand. You find sexual interaction with him disturbing? Are you not versed in sexual acts?" He looked over at Spike. "Do you not find his form appealing? And please do not inflict more damage on my person for saying this, but his appearance was one of his main selling points and one of the reasons the fees for his services were much higher than other units."

Buffy raised her head and looked up at the demon, restraining herself from punching him in his other nose, but only just. "Of course I find him appealing, you idiot. He's hot, anybody with eyes can see that, and yes, I'm 'versed' in sexual acts. Spike taught me pretty much all of them, by the way, and it's not being with Spike sexually that I find disturbing… it's **why** I have to do it. I have to claim him as my property, which is disturbing on so many levels. He's not property… a toaster is property, or a TV, or a car, but not Spike… and I really don't want to treat him like he is, but because of what you did to him, what Angel did to him, if I want to help him at all, I have to. And that disturbs me." She looked over at Spike. "And it's also disturbing that I have to do sexual things to Spike while you're here. That is WAY disturbing. Things like that are private."

The demon took a step back. "I only need be present for the collar transfer, madam. Once you have placed your collar and given mine to me, my part of the transfer process is complete."

Buffy sighed in relief. This whole thing was wigging her out, but at least she wouldn't have to molest Spike in front of a witness. And that's what she would be doing… molesting the man she loved, inflicting just one more violation on him. She suddenly hated Angel with every fiber of her being. It wasn't like she and Spike would've had an easy path even **without** all the slavery shit to deal with. Nobody, except for Dawn, was really on board the 'Buffy Loves Spike' train and they'd been on her ass about him all week, trying to talk her out of even seeing him. And now? She had absolutely no idea how she was going to explain **this**; her very own vampire sex slave. God, sometimes her life sucked **SO** much.

She took a deep breath and stood up, moving toward the door. Her friends and their issues with her love life would just have to wait. Spike needed her to focus on nothing but him if she was ever going to bring him out of this, so she locked, bolted, and chained the door, then propped a chair under the handle for good measure. Knowing the Scoobies, even though most of them were currently in England, the distance wouldn't necessarily stop them from showing up at her door for some kind of 'intervention' if they thought she needed one. They'd already threatened exactly that the last time she'd spoken to them about Spike, and she'd tried to explain, yet again, that she was an adult and more than capable of handling her own life. Telling them politely to butt out and mind their own beeswax had gone over about as well as a whore in church, but dammit! It was her life! Not theirs! You'd think they'd at least be happy that she'd found someone to share her life with, but nooooo… They were all – he's no good for you, Buffy – he'll only hurt you, Buffy – he's tried to kill us all, Buffy. It seemed that as soon as they'd left California, they'd completely forgotten how much he'd changed… how he'd sacrificed himself to save them all… and they'd snapped right back to ragging on him and pointing out every little thing he'd ever done wrong.

She clenched her hands into fists then stomped over to her answering machine. She hit 'record memo' and said as calmly as she could manage, "Hi guys, I know why you're calling and no, I'm not going to talk to you right now. Spike and I are catching up and I won't be answering the door or the phone or coming in to work until we're done, so please leave us alone until I contact you. And yes, Giles, that means you, too. If there's an apocalypse, get somebody else on it. I know you don't like Spike, but I love him and I'm all grown up now, so if you guys love me at all, please just stay out of it. Dawnie, just leave what I asked you to get outside my door, and I'll call you when I need you, K? I love you all. Bye." She set the memo as the greeting to play whenever anyone called her number then picked up the phone and turned the ringer off.

The demon was looking at her strangely as she bent to snag the stick then moved to stand in front of Spike. She shrugged. "My friends don't like him and don't want me to be involved with him, even after he died saving their freaking lives. My sister is the only one who thinks it's a good idea, mostly because he never tried to kill her like he tried to kill the rest of us, I guess, or maybe because she had a crush on him for the longest time." Buffy smiled wistfully. "My Mom really liked him, though, and I know she'd be happy about it." She laughed quietly. "He never tried to kill her, either." Buffy smirked at the demon's look of confused alarm. "Yeah, Spike and I have a pretty complicated history. And hey, I just realized… we're tied in the 'not staying dead' games. We've both died twice now, that's kind of cool."

The demon just nodded, still wearing a look of utter confusion as Buffy tapped Spike on the shoulder and hip. Spike rose to his feet and Buffy reached up and tapped one eyelid with her fingertip. He opened his eyes and she smiled at him as she tossed the stick onto the couch then reached up to remove the collar. He tensed when her fingers touched it, but that was all the reaction she got as she unbuckled it then turned to hand it to the demon.

The trainer bowed as he said, "I give my slave over to you, madam, to do with what you will," then he straightened up and tore the collar into two pieces, dropping them on the floor at his feet.

That got a reaction out of Spike. He flinched violently as the pieces of the collar hit the floor then he looked at his trainer in terror. Buffy reached into her back pocket and retrieved the silk scarf she was going to use as a collar, being that she wasn't into that kind of thing and didn't just have people collars lying around. She held it up where Spike could see it then reached up toward his neck and whispered, "I'm going to make you mine, Spike. You'll never be rented out to anyone ever again, I promise." She looped the scarf loosely around his neck then tied the ends in a knot so that it looked like a badly done up cravat.

She turned to the demon and bowed as she said, "I accept your slave and claim him as my own." She straightened up and pointed to the spare bedroom door. "Go in there and wait until I come get you. And plug your ears… all of them. What's gonna happen in here next is none of your damn business."

The demon nodded and turned for the bedroom. "As you wish, madam."

Buffy waited until the door had closed then she waited a few more minutes to give the demon time to plug up all his ears. When she turned back to Spike, he was watching her with wide, frightened eyes, his arms and legs quivering nearly hard enough to knock him down. He obviously knew what was going to happen next and he was scared.

XXXX

He was working to rein in his fear by taking shallow, barely noticeable breaths as he pressed his forehead into the floor hard enough to cause a bruise. He was trying to find something to ground himself with, and pain usually seemed to serve that purpose, so he clenched his hands into fists and drove his fingernails into his palms. The bright, sharp bursts of pain in his palms soothed him somewhat and he was able to focus on the conversation.

He heard his renter say something about this being disturbing and he had to heartily agree. Of course this was disturbing. What was going on? Why was his trainer asserting ownership in a renter's home? That had never happened before. And why had he been so gentle doing it? THAT had certainly never happened before, either.

He turned off his thoughts as best he could and listened, but nobody was currently speaking, so he let his mind wander just a bit. His renter kept referring to him as Spike, but the name felt foreign and wrong when he tried to apply it to himself. It felt like a badly made, too small shirt he was trying to cram his body into, but if that's what she wanted to call him, then that's what he would answer to. At least it was an actual name. He hadn't been called anything but 'slave' or 'Service Unit 238' since he'd woken in the slave compound, and any name he'd had before that had drowned in the sea of constant agony that had been his first several months of captivity.

His ears perked up when his trainer started speaking and he listened intently to what his renter said in response. She thought he was appealing, and even though he couldn't remember doing it, apparently he'd taught her what she knew about sex, if, in fact, he was this Spike she was talking about. That made a small bit of warm pride bloom in his chest, but what she said next had him barely keeping his mouth from popping open in shock.

She didn't think of him as property. But he was. He was a slave, a service unit, had been for years, but she didn't think so, and she didn't want to treat him that way. And she didn't want to use him in front of others. She was still **going** to use him, but according to her, she would be doing it to help him.

He was so confused. Nothing here was as it should be and he was starting to get tired of trying to figure it all out. He wanted to hope that maybe he was finally being rescued, but it had been so long since he'd had ANY hope in that direction that he didn't even know what it felt like anymore.

He heard her move around the room, locking a door and dragging a chair over toward it, then she started speaking again, but not to him or his trainer. She said the word 'Giles' and his stomach clenched slightly, although he didn't know why. The word 'Dawnie' also caused a reaction, but not a clenching of his stomach. That word made him want to smile, something he couldn't remember doing in all the time he'd been a slave.

He didn't hear anything spoken after that word because he was busy seeing a picture in his head of a tall, thin, brunette girl. She was looking up at him, her big, blue eyes full of trust and love, and if he'd been standing instead of kneeling on the floor, he probably would've collapsed. Her name was Dawn. He KNEW that just like he knew he was a slave. Another name was tickling at the back of his mind now, but he couldn't quite grab it. Nib… Nibbles? Something starting with N, he was sure of it.

A pair of taps and he rose to his feet, shutting off his thoughts as he did. A tap on his eyelid had him opening his eyes to see his renter smiling at him. She reached up and touched his collar and he tensed. Nobody was allowed to touch that except his trainer, but she was unbuckling it from around his neck and his trainer was just standing there watching her do it. The last creature that had dared touch his collar had had to be sponged off the floor, the walls, and the ceiling once his trainer had finished with it. So what did that mean? What was going on?

Then she handed his collar to his trainer and his trainer tore it in half and dropped the pieces. He flinched before he could stop it and his mind reeled. His trainer had disowned him. He was less than worthless now. He'd seen what had happened to other slaves who'd had their collars torn because they weren't being requested for rental anymore. They'd been put outside the gate of the compound where they could go their own way as free creatures or wait for someone else to claim ownership. Most had been picked up by passing demons, but a few had stood outside the gate in whatever position they'd been placed in until they'd collapsed. Then they'd lain there until they'd starved to death.

Why had he been disowned? He'd been one of the most requested units in the compound, with some of his rental contracts booked years in advance, so why? What had he done? He knew he'd disobeyed practically the very first order his new renter had given him, but he'd been good since then, hadn't he? And it's not like his trainer didn't enjoy punishing him, considering that he found so many reasons to do so, so why was he tearing his collar instead of hanging him to be whipped? Who was going to take care of him now? Where would he go? He had nothing, no one. He didn't even know where he was. Or who he was.

He was free now. Un-owned. And he was terrified. He didn't know if he COULD be free. His training was so deeply entrenched that he doubted he could even **force** himself to do anything he wasn't ordered to do. The only thing he was fully in charge of at all was his breathing. Whether or not to breathe had been the only choice he'd been allowed to make for himself during his slavery, whenever there wasn't something shoved so far down his throat that it blocked his airway, of course. Anything else had been decided for him, trained into him, or had been a visceral reaction to whatever was being done to him.

He was suddenly sure that he couldn't be free. Not at all. He was going to stand wherever he was told and let himself die. Just like the others had.

Something the color of fresh blood suddenly appeared in his line of vision. His renter was holding up a strip of cloth… no, she couldn't be his renter since he was no longer owned, so what was she now? His thoughts were interrupted when she whispered, "I'm going to make you mine, Spike. You'll never be rented out to anyone ever again, I promise."

She wound the cloth around his neck and tied the ends in a knot and he nearly collapsed in relief, his limbs shaking as he worked to stay on his feet. She was claiming him! He was owned again! Well, almost. She still had to do the rest of the ownership assertion, and being that she was female; she didn't have the right appendages. She'd have to use a dildo to properly claim his ass and he hoped she'd pick one of the smaller ones instead of the demonstration model. Even though he'd been slightly stretched by his trainer, it wasn't nearly enough to be able to take that monster without blinding agony. In fact, he hadn't been prepared well enough to take any of them without quite a bit of pain.

A thought suddenly struck him and the shaking of his limbs became more pronounced. What if she… she didn't want to cause him pain, did she? She hadn't so far, at least not intentionally, he didn't think, but what if…

She turned to face him and frowned.


	11. Chapter 11 - Tilt

Service Unit

Chapter Eleven – Tilt

Buffy was wearing a frown as she watched the flicker of fear cross his face, then she shook her head slightly and smiled at him in a way he would hopefully find reassuring. "I'm going to try not to hurt you, Spike. I don't want to hurt you." She moved around behind him and unbuckled the cuffs, tossing them once again into the toy crate where they would stay. Those nasty things would never again touch Spike. Ever.

She picked up the small tube of lube resting on a table and squirted some into the palm of her right hand then took his right hand in her left and walked around to stand in front of him. She hated herself for doing it, but she tapped him in the center of his chest to keep him from ejaculating then undid the ring around his penis and tossed it into the crate before wrapping her lubed hand around him.

He was still raw and it looked terribly painful, so she was stroking him as gently as she could, but apparently he was enjoying it because his eyes widened and he started to pant. His eyes widened even further when Buffy leaned up and claimed his mouth in a gentle, probing kiss. She lifted the hand she'd been holding and placed it on the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. He clenched them slightly as she deepened the kiss and his eyes drifted shut as she explored him. She was still wary of hurting him further, but she increased the pressure and speed just a little when he started minutely thrusting his hips in time with her motions. His hand tightened in her hair as he came with a raspy moan that was barely audible.

Buffy rested her forehead on his chest as it heaved with rough breathing and waited until he'd calmed somewhat, then she lifted her head, wearing a bright smile, only to see Spike's face frozen in fear. "What is it, Spike? What's wrong?"

He didn't look as if he was going to respond for a long minute then he closed his eyes and opened them. He did that twice more before Buffy finally got it. "Oh, no, Spike. You're not in trouble because you closed your eyes without being commanded to." She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "You can do stuff without me telling you to, because I don't want you to be my slave; I want you to be my boyfriend… no, that sounds too… you'd be laughing right now if you were your normal self. Uh… lover just sounds so… um… how about partner? That sounds kind of weird, too, but I guess it'll work. No… how about this? I want you to be my guy, and I'll be your girl. I want you to live here with me because I love you, and I want to give you just as much pleasure as you give me. It's not going to be all one sided, Spike. I want to make you feel good, too."

Spike tilted his head just slightly and Buffy nearly screamed with joy. He was still in there! She wondered how much of what she'd said to him he'd actually understood, but that small sign gave her hope that maybe she'd be able to help him dig his way out and he'd be Spike again. She beamed a smile at him and reached up to grasp the back of his neck, meaning to pull him into another kiss, but apparently her touch felt like a tap because Spike suddenly stepped back then dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against the floor at her feet. He lifted his hands to his lower back and pressed his wrists together.

XXXX

She frowned at him for a few seconds then smiled, although he could tell it was mostly forced. He dared to feel relieved when she said she didn't want to hurt him then she moved behind him and unbuckled his cuffs, once again leaving him to try to hold his hands in the uncomfortable position. He nearly jumped when she took one of his hands in hers and walked around to stand in front of him again, and his relief turned to fear once more when she tapped him in the center of his chest.

It was the command not to ejaculate when the ring around his cock was released and he steeled himself for its removal, his hopes dashed that he'd be allowed to feel any pleasure. True, an orgasm from the ring's removal wasn't as pleasurable as being stroked to completion, but it felt a lot better than being forced to hold it back while he was manipulated and teased. Some renters would do that to him over and over… bring him to the brink of an explosive orgasm only to replace the ring and leave him in frustrated agony for hours or days while they took their pleasure in his body. Other times, they'd stop just before the pinnacle moment and leave him hard and weeping until he deflated naturally, the ache in his balls growing to a fiery agony after the tenth or fifteenth time.

In his entire time as a slave, he'd only been allowed four actual orgasms, and all of those had been with one of his earliest renters. She'd chained him to a bed and the first two hours of his service had been the best he'd felt since he'd been captured. She'd lovingly stroked him and kissed him and in general had worshipped his body, bringing him off with her hands and mouth.

He'd floated in a haze of bliss for a few short minutes before she'd decided to engage in much more painful pursuits involving that thrice damned plug and a vibrating cock ring. She'd gotten him hard again then had applied both items before proceeding to ride him for hours. She'd climaxed several times then she'd left him hard and leaking while she rested up enough to climb back on.

He'd endured two solid weeks of the plug vibrating on the highest setting along with the ring vibrating on his cock, and by the end of it, he'd been genuinely surprised that his cock hadn't fallen off and his balls hadn't exploded. When he'd been unpacked from his crate at the compound, his trainer hadn't ordered him not to ejaculate, and when the ring had been removed, he'd collapsed from the pain of finally being allowed his release. His balls had felt like they'd turned themselves inside out as his seed had boiled up through his cock, feeling like super heated acid. The cross he'd had strapped to his cock as a punishment hadn't hurt that much.

He'd been lost in memories and had barely felt the removal of the ring, but the warm pressure of her small hand now sliding up and down his length brought his mind crashing back to the present. Even though his cock was still raw and abraded from his previous renter's use, she'd used lube, and what she was doing felt good. Really good. He wanted to lose himself in the sensations and let his body respond to something that had been denied to him for years… a touch meant to cause pleasure instead of pain… but he kept himself in check, trying to maintain proper service unit behavior.

And then she kissed him.

She lifted his hand to her head and her soft hair twined through his fingers as her tongue slid against his. She explored every part of his mouth and she tasted wonderful, warm and sweet, and his eyes closed of their own accord as he let himself go, swimming in pleasure.

She increased the speed of her strokes and his orgasm broke over him like a wave of warm water, his fingers clutching at her hair to keep himself from floating away.

She was leaning against him, resting her forehead on his chest, when he realized what he'd done. He snapped his eyes open, hoping against hope that she hadn't seen, that maybe she hadn't noticed, but… of course she had. She'd had her eyes open when she'd started kissing him, so of course she'd seen him close his without permission. She was going to punish him now. She had to.

Knowing that he'd behaved so badly when she'd given him such pleasure ripped at him. She'd been so kind to him and he couldn't even repay that kindness by behaving properly. He was useless. And he deserved punishment.

He steeled himself as she lifted her head away from his chest, trying to keep the fear of what she was about to do to him off his face, but he failed at that, too. Her smile turned into a frown when she saw him then she asked him what was wrong.

Didn't she know? Hadn't she seen? Or was this a test to see if he'd admit to it? Would she punish him more harshly if he did or if he didn't? He suppressed a tired sigh. It really didn't matter either way, he supposed. He deserved a punishment… several, in fact… so what did it matter how harshly she punished him? It was her right, after all. She owned him and she could do whatever she wanted to him.

He decided to be honest and admit his transgression. He quickly closed his eyes then opened them. She just stared at him in confusion so he did it again. And again. Then her face melted into comprehension and she said he wasn't in trouble. What? How could he not be?

She kissed him again, not the deep, probing kiss of a few minutes ago, just a quick press of her lips to his, but his brain shorted out for a few seconds. When he came back, she was saying, "live here with me because I love you, and I want to give you just as much pleasure as you give me. It's not going to be all one sided, Spike. I want to make you feel good, too."

Out of all of that, his brain fixated on one word. Love. It stirred something deep inside him that he hadn't felt in he couldn't remember how long, but he quickly slammed the door on it. Going down that path meant nothing but pain, he was sure of it. And it would be the kind of pain that he couldn't push to the back of his mind and try to ignore. Nobody **loved** him. He was a service unit, a slave… a toy… and nobody **loved** their toys. They might experience enjoyment from using them or appreciate the fact that they have one, but love was something reserved for people… not things.

Then his brain processed the rest of what she'd said – mainly the part about making him feel good – and he had the sudden urge to tilt his head in wonder that she'd even care how he felt or if he was enjoying the things she did to him. He managed to stop the movement before he'd moved very far, though. Even though she didn't seem to be upset by his disobedience so far, he didn't want to push it. He'd seen her anger directed at his trainer and he really didn't want it directed at him.

The way his trainer had flown over his head proved that she was a lot stronger than she looked and could probably cause him endless amounts of pain should she choose to do so. She hadn't so far… well, yes, she'd caused him pain, but compared to what he normally experienced, it was so little as to be non-existent… and he'd enjoyed the first part of the ownership assertion… very much… but he certainly didn't expect that kind of treatment to continue. He wasn't here to be serviced; his purpose was to service **her**, bring **her** pleasure, and if he didn't start doing his job… He suppressed a shudder. He didn't particularly care to imagine what kinds of things she could do when she was angry.

He needed to get out of his head, stop thinking so much, and start behaving properly. He needed to prove that he was a good slave so she'd want to keep him, because even if he never experienced another orgasm as long as she owned him, he'd still rather be here than anywhere else. She'd promised not to rent him out, not to let others use her toy, and just for that he'd spend the rest of his days bringing her pleasure in every way he knew how.

She reached up and touched the back of his neck and he immediately backed up a step then dropped into the display position, moving his hands into their proper place at his low back. It was time for her to claim his ass and he vowed to take whatever pain she was about to inflict as a good slave should.


	12. Chapter 12 - Learning

Service Unit

Chapter Twelve – Learning

Buffy stared down at him for a few minutes then sighed. This was apparently going to take a hell of a lot more than a couple of kisses, a hand job, and a babbling declaration of love. She sighed again as she stepped around behind him. One more part of the ownership transfer needed to be done and then she could work on trying to get him to talk. He'd moaned when he'd climaxed, probably without realizing it, so she knew he could make sounds, she'd just have to figure out how to get _him_ to realize he could.

She looked down at his raised backside. He had the lube she'd insisted on smeared all around his anus and it was mixed with some blood, so his trainer had reopened a few of the tears. Buffy clenched her clean hand into a fist then stalked into the kitchen. She washed her hands then wet two clean dishcloths and went back out to the living room.

XXXX

He waited, inwardly flinching both times she sighed. Apparently he'd done something wrong… again… and she was getting frustrated with him. Why didn't she just punish him and get it over with? He'd done so many things wrong, even though he hadn't meant to, and any other renter or his trainer would have punished him several times by now. Maybe she was waiting until he was fully claimed before she meted out the punishment he so obviously deserved. That had to be it.

He pushed all thoughts of punishment out of his mind and tried not to tremble as she stepped behind him. He hadn't noticed any of the dildos sitting out waiting for use, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He wasn't allowed to look around, after all, so if they'd been placed somewhere behind him, he wouldn't have seen them anyway.

He tried to relax as much as he could, even though he knew it wouldn't really make that much of a difference. None of the dildos in his toy kit were small or comfortable by any stretch of the imagination. They were meant to cause pain. A few of them had rough protrusions that would tear him and make him bleed, and one had spikes half an inch long that could be extended while the dildo was inside him. Some renters retracted the spikes before they removed the dildo and some… didn't.

He almost jumped when she walked past him and into the kitchen. He heard water running and then she was walking toward him again and he had to fight to keep himself from trembling. He'd had quite a lot of practice at being violated, usually in the most brutal ways possible, and it worried him that he was suddenly so afraid of it.

He wasn't afraid of the pain. He was **tired** of it, but he wasn't **afraid** of it. Being in pain was a normal part of his existence and it was her right as his owner to cause him pain if she so chose. He suddenly blinked in realization. He was afraid that she'd **enjoy** causing him pain. Knowing that she liked hurting him would hurt more than whatever she was doing to him.

He felt a tremble trying to work free and tensed, rigidly holding position. It would make whatever she'd decided to claim his ass with hurt more, but it couldn't be helped. His body was betraying him and he needed to rein it in and make it behave properly. He would endure whatever she was about to do, no matter how much it hurt, and then once she'd fully claimed him, he'd be the very best slave he could be.

XXXX

Spike hadn't moved, of course, and she stepped up behind him again and gently laid one of the cloths over his hole. He jerked and huffed out some air in a startled gasp then seemed to relax just a little. She pressed lightly and held it for a few minutes, until the heat had leached out of the cloth, then she lifted it away and tossed it into the crate. She used the other cloth to carefully clean him up then she tossed that one into the crate as well.

She stood behind him, considering her next move, and had to blink back sudden tears. She knew Spike was resilient and a survivor and could adapt to pretty much any circumstance to ensure that survival… and it was patently obvious that he'd adapted to his current circumstances, but… could he un-adapt? Twenty three years was a long time. Twenty three years of pain and torture and rape and who knew what else. Would he ever be able to stop reacting like a slave whenever someone touched him? Or was that so deeply ingrained in him now that he'd never be rid of it even if his normal personality returned? Another flash of anger washed through her at what had been done to the once vibrant and full of life vampire she'd known.

He wasn't restrained, but he still had his wrists pressed together at his low back, like he didn't know what else to do with his hands. Hell, he hadn't been allowed to use his hands for most of his time as a slave, so he probably **didn't** know what to do with them. She needed to get through to him that she wasn't going to restrain him and that he could put his hands wherever he liked, and if she was ever going to rehabilitate the traumatized vampire, she needed to get him off his knees and back on his feet… literally and figuratively. It looked like getting him to talk was going to have to move to a back burner for a while. There were several other bridges that needed to be crossed first, and if they were ever going to get to the end of the long road ahead, she needed to get with the crossing. She looked over at the command stick on the couch then shook her head. No, she wasn't going to use that thing anymore.

XXXX

He slowly drew in a lungful of air as she stepped behind him then held it, preparing himself for the pain. He jerked in surprise and gasped out nearly all the air he'd drawn in when he felt a warm, wet cloth press against his entrance. She held light pressure on it and it felt… nice. It was soothing against his torn and abused flesh and he relaxed slightly.

The wiping with the second cloth was uncomfortable, but not overly painful, and then she stood back from him. He waited, slowly tensing back up as she just stood there. What was she doing? Why had she cleaned him before claiming him? His trainer had never cleaned him. Not once. Whenever he'd been at the slave compound – being claimed, punished, or stored – he'd been left covered in blood, demon spunk, and various other substances, but he'd only been cleaned when it was time to go to a new renter, and that task had been assigned to lesser demons.

She was still just standing there. Was he supposed to be doing something? Had she given a command that he'd missed because he'd been thinking too much again? Was she was waiting for him to obey? What had she commanded him to do? His stomach clenched with fear and shame. He just couldn't do anything right, could he? He'd been getting things wrong since he'd arrived here… disobeying commands, moving without permission, being unrestrained… you'd think he had no training at all!

It was his senses being returned to him… that's what had done it. He couldn't concentrate because there was too much information now, more than he'd had to deal with in years. He'd spent so long being unable to hear or smell, and only able to see when he wasn't hooded and allowed to open his eyes, that all the stimuli were interfering with and overriding his training.

He wished that she'd put the hood and restraints back on. Then he could focus and behave as a proper service unit.

XXXX

She knelt beside him and reached up to take one of his hands in hers. She tugged gently until he'd moved his arm down off his back then she slipped her other hand under his shoulder and exerted light pressure until he lifted his torso and resumed the sit-kneel. His brow was furrowed and his expression was confused as his face came into view, and Buffy waited for a few seconds then squeezed his hand and said, "Look at me, Spike." He looked over at her, moving just his eyes, and she asked quietly, "You understand me, don't you? Nod your head if you do." He looked at her for a long minute then tentatively nodded. "Good. Do you know who I am?" Another tentative nod. "Okay, then. I know I did the whole ownership thing, but I'm not going to treat you like a slave and I'm not going to command you with that stick. I know you're going to have some trouble with that at first, but we'll work through it, okay? Can you stand up now?"

His brow furrowed just a little more and he started trembling. Buffy stood up, still holding his hand in hers, then tugged on it and made a lifting motion with her other hand. "Can you stand up?"

He hesitantly rose to his feet, looking at her intently to make sure that's what she'd wanted him to do. She beamed a smile at him as she reached around behind him and grasped his other hand, pulling it around to his front. "Good, Spike! Good!" She squeezed his hands. "I think we've had enough excitement for today. You need blood and rest and I'm completely wiped and my brain is fried from all of this, so how about we call it a day and start fresh tomorrow, okay?"

She let go of one hand then turned and took a step, gently tugging on his other hand as she did. His first steps after her were uncertain, but got surer as she towed him toward her bedroom. She stopped at the threshold and turned to face him, taking his other hand in hers again. "You can come in here, Spike. I'm not a renter, so you're allowed to be in here, okay? You live here now. This is your home. Do you understand?"

He nodded tentatively again and she took a step back, tugging him forward by his hands. She continued walking backwards until they were both fully in the room. She stopped and let go of one hand, motioning around the room as she said, "This is our bedroom. You can be in here anytime you want. Understand?"

He nodded again, not quite as tentatively, and Buffy smiled as she started pulling him toward the bathroom, talking all the while. "Good. Let's get you in the shower and then I'll get you some blood. I know you're not dirty, but I remember how much you like hot showers and I'm guessing that you haven't gotten to enjoy one for a while and it'll help you sleep."

XXXX

She was moving toward him and he had to work to keep himself from flinching when she knelt down next to him and reached up to take his right hand. She tugged on it and he lowered it, not quite sure what she was wanting him to do. Her other hand, small and warm, touched his shoulder, but it wasn't giving a proper command. It **was** exerting upward pressure, though, so maybe he was supposed to sit up.

He slowly raised his torso and sat back on his feet, hoping that's what she'd wanted him to do. He didn't know how she was going to claim his ass if he was sitting on it, but as his owner, it was her decision as to when, where, and how that happened. Maybe she considered what she'd already done to be her claiming and wasn't going to penetrate him because she had no plans to use him that way, which was more than fine with him. No matter what happened to him from here on in, he would die happy if he never had anything else shoved up his ass.

But it was also possible that she was going to wait until he was healed and claim him then. His trainer had waited for him to heal quite a few times before reclaiming him so he could drive into a virgin-tight hole instead of a torn and gaping one. Although his trainer had never claimed him in stages. He shrugged inwardly. It wasn't like he had any choice in the matter, so there was no point in worrying about it. It would be better to focus on what was happening now instead of what might happen in the future.

He kept his eyes averted, making sure to look at his knees, until she lightly squeezed his hand and told him to look at her. He did and she spoke, asking if he understood her and telling him to nod if he did. Of course he understood her. He wasn't stupid. She'd even said as much, but it was apparent that his poor behavior had started to convince her otherwise.

It was also apparent that she expected him to respond to verbal commands, something he'd not been trained to do, but he'd learned to do much stranger things when a renter required it, so he could learn to do this as well. He moved his head in something that could barely be construed as a nod, but it must have been enough because she smiled.

She asked if he knew who she was. That one was easy. His owner. He nodded again.

Then she said that she wasn't going to treat him like a slave and he felt like he'd been punched in the balls. How was he going to please her if she didn't tell him what she wanted him to do? He needed to be commanded. He couldn't even move until he was told to do so and she was going to get angry when he just sat there like a piece of furniture. It wouldn't take long before she'd get tired of his disobedience and get rid of him, he was sure of it, and he wanted to stay here. With her. He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything.

So he'd have to learn how to serve her and learn fast, even if she didn't use the commands he was used to. He'd picked up his training quickly once he'd been broken and had stopped fighting it, so learning what she wanted from him shouldn't be too difficult, considering he had a much more pleasant incentive this time – namely **not** spending the rest of his existence being tortured and violently raped by sadistic demons.

She stood up and tugged on the hand she was holding as she asked if he could stand. He didn't know if she wanted him to answer the question or actually stand up, but he gathered all the courage he could find inside him then took a chance and rose to his feet. He checked her expression to see if he'd chosen correctly and warmth bloomed in his chest when she smiled and praised him. He'd done something right! Finally! He would have to pay strict attention to whatever she said so he'd be able to discern what it was she wanted.

He listened intently to what she said next, but it didn't seem that she expected a response of any kind out of him so he didn't move until she turned and started tugging on his hand again. She hadn't told him to do anything, but it seemed that she wanted him to follow her. He took a hesitant step then another, and when she didn't stop or tell him that he was doing something wrong, he walked behind her with a little more confidence.

He stopped when she did and waited for her next _command_. She told him that he was allowed to be in her sleeping area then asked if he understood. He nodded even as he tried not to be nervous about that, reminding himself that she was his owner and not a renter, so he couldn't be punished for being in this room if she told him he could be.

She led him into the middle of the room then waved her hand around and told him again that he was allowed to be in it. He was starting to get a little irritated at being treated like he was an idiot, but he supposed he couldn't blame her for thinking so. It wasn't as if he'd done much to prove that he wasn't.

Then she started pulling him toward another room, talking about a shower and blood. His stomach cramped in hunger at the mention of the blood even as he shuddered in fear at the mention of the shower.


	13. Chapter 13 - Shower

Service Unit

Chapter Thirteen – Shower

They stepped into the bathroom and Buffy let go of his hand long enough to move to the large shower stall and turn on the water. She set the temperature just slightly hotter than she liked it and turned to Spike. "Spike, come here, please."

He took a hesitant step forward then looked to her for confirmation. She nodded and made a 'come here' motion with her hand. He took the six more steps needed to bring him across the room then stopped in front of her. She lifted one of his hands and slipped his fingers into the stream of water. "Is that too hot? Not hot enough?" He didn't respond except to push his hand a little further into the stream. "I'm gonna take that as okay then." She laid her hand lightly on his low back and nudged him forward. "Go ahead and get in." He stepped into the stall and looked up at the wall opposite the shower head, his brow furrowing. He stepped to that wall and raised his hands above his head, laying them flat on the wall as he spread his feet wide and bowed his back, pushing his buttocks out to expose his hole. Then he just stood there.

Buffy stared at him for a few confused seconds before comprehension dawned. He was waiting to be cleaned like he was a freaking microwave or something. She swallowed down another surge of anger and stepped into the stall, avoiding the streams of water as she moved to stand beside him. He flinched slightly and the muscles in his back and arms tensed as he braced for the pain he was apparently used to experiencing during this procedure. Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath then opened her eyes and laid a hand lightly on his low back. "I'm not going to hurt you, Spike. I promise. Let's get you under the water."

She reached up and lifted one of his hands off the wall then tugged and nudged until he'd turned around. She nudged him toward the water and he stepped under it and let it cascade over him. He hissed quietly at first when the hot water touched his many wounds, then he sighed in obvious pleasure at the heat of the water pouring down over him. She tugged and nudged again until he'd turned around to face her then she pointed at his head. "I'm going to wash your hair and then I'll do a quick wash of everything else."

He watched her as she picked up the shampoo bottle and poured a small dollop out into her palm, then he tensed again as she applied the shampoo to his fuzzy head. She started massaging his scalp with her fingertips and noticed his eyelids drooping even as he fought to keep them up, so she said, "You can open and close your eyes anytime you want to, Spike." He let them fall shut in contentment as she continued, and the muscles he'd been holding tense started to relax. She smiled and spoke quietly, "I only have strawberry scented shampoo, sorry, but I'll get you some manly shampoo in a few days so you won't have to smell like a girl. And when your hair grows out some more, we can bleach it if you want. Or we can leave it alone, I guess, it's up to you, although you look really different without your Billy Idol hair. Not bad different, just different. I'll have to get you some gel or something, too. I know you don't like your curls all that much, even though they make you look really cute and sexy. Well… **more** cute and sexy."

She took a lot longer than was needed to wash the little bit of hair he had, but he was enjoying it so much that she didn't want to stop. She wondered if **anybody** in the last twenty three years had shown him any kind of affection or tenderness, but with the way he was soaking up every gentle touch like a sponge soaking up water, she had to guess that nobody probably had. And, she realized with a start, she was enjoying caring for him. She'd dusted off her nurturing side and was letting it run the show for a while. No, she didn't like the reason he needed the care – and if… no, **when**… he got back to his normal self, he'd probably get all offended and wouldn't want to be coddled this way, but it made her feel all warm and fuzzy to be taking care of the man she loved.

She carefully rinsed the suds off his head, making sure to keep them out of his eyes, then she soaped a washcloth and started to clean him with gentle, barely there swipes of the cloth so she wouldn't aggravate his injuries. When she reached his genitals, she carefully wrapped the cloth around his penis and started to wash off the lube she'd used, blinking in surprise when he got hard from only a couple of strokes of the soapy cloth. She let him go and his cock bobbed a little as it stood out proudly from his body.

_Okay… that wasn't exactly sexy touching, and it had to have hurt, considering his penis still looks like raw hamburger, so why'd he get hard? Even back when we were going at it like bunnies it would have taken a bit more than that to get Spike Junior interested again after having an orgasm less than twenty minutes ago._ She glanced up at his face, but he wasn't showing any of his usual signs of arousal. She looked back down. _Well, you know, aside from the obvious. So is he actually turned on? Or is it… _She frowned. _It's a trained response… I'd bet my Slayer Scythe on it. He gets hard from any kind of touch and I doubt he has any control over it at all._ She clenched her hand tightly around the washcloth and a stream of suds poured out from between her fingers and splashed onto her shoes. _Well, I'm not going to just leave him like that. _

She put down the washcloth and picked up her body wash, squirting a sizeable dollop into her palm and then rubbing her hands together until they were both slick with soap suds. She started to reach for him then stopped, her fingertips only millimeters from the hard column of his flesh. _Buffy, you idiot! Yeah, just grab hold and start yanking, why don't you? Don't even ask the guy who's had absolutely no say over what happens to his body if he even **wants** you to! He probably doesn't! He probably just wants to be left alone! _

She took a deep breath then looked up at him and asked quietly, "Spike? Can you open your eyes for me, please?"

He did, blinking the shower water out of them, and she motioned toward his penis. "Uh… I know you probably don't have any control over… uh… this, but if you want me to, I'll… um…" She took another deep breath and felt her face heat as she stammered, "I'll… I'll make you come, if you want."

He just looked at her, still blinking water out of his eyes, and her face heated even more. "Do you want me to keep touching you… there?" She pointed at his penis. "Or does it hurt too much?"

He nodded tentatively and she nearly smacked herself in the forehead when she realized that she didn't know which question he was answering. "Okay… one question at a time. Right. Do you want me to… make you come?"

He looked at her for a long minute then nodded. _Okay, so he does… or he's only saying yes because he doesn't think he can say no._ She gently wrapped one soap slick hand around him and stroked twice then asked quietly, "Does it hurt when I do that? Please tell me the truth." He took even longer to answer this time, but he finally nodded and she immediately let go. "Okay, then I won't. Your body, your decision. I don't want to do anything that will hurt you, so I'll just rinse you off and we'll be done."

Once he was rinsed clean, she reached around him to turn off the water then stepped out of the stall and turned to face him. He followed her without any prompting, and she was just about to praise him for acting without command when he dropped to his knees outside the stall and pressed his forehead to the laces of her right sneaker, once again placing his hands at the small of his back.

Buffy nearly growled. Without the trainer there to tell her why Spike was acting this way, she wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen, but whatever it was, it probably wasn't fun. Then she remembered the plug and shuddered. He was probably waiting for it to be reinserted so he'd be ready for use. She was SO going to kick Angel right in the nuts. With each foot. More than once. And she'd be wearing boots.

She carefully wiggled her foot out from under Spike's head then moved to the towel rack and picked the fluffiest, softest towel she owned, unfurling it and draping it over his back. She clutched his shoulders through the cloth and tugged until he sat up, gasping loudly as his face came into view and she saw the tears streaking down his cheeks. "Spike? What's wrong? Oh God, I hurt you, didn't I?"

He looked up at her, blinking as he tried to control the tears, and a small, silent sob broke from his throat. She dropped to her knees beside him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close and using a hand on the back of his head to guide his face to rest against her neck. She murmured quietly as she stroked her fingers gently through the damp fuzz at his nape, "I'm sorry, Spike, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I want to help you, but I have no clue what I'm doing, and I think I'm making it worse. God, I'm sorry." Her own eyes welled up and tears spilled down her cheeks, dripping off her chin to land on the towel draped around Spike.

Spike still had his wrists pressed together at the small of his back as he sobbed against her, and they sat crying together for a long time, Buffy murmuring quiet apologies as she pressed gentle kisses to his ear and neck.

When she gently nudged him back to sit on his feet, his eyes were red-rimmed and a few errant tears were still threatening to spill, but he was calm. He dropped his gaze to his knees and Buffy reached out and used her index finger under his chin to gently lift his face. When his eyes met hers, she gave him a watery smile. "It's okay, Spike. Really. We'll figure this out. It might be rough at first, and I'm probably going to make a lot of mistakes, but we'll get through it. We're both stubborn and we're not going to let this beat us, are we?"

Spike's expression became fearful and Buffy thought over what she'd just said then she moved her hand and cupped his cheek. "Sorry. That wasn't a question you needed to answer, because I already know we won't let this beat us. We won't, Spike. I promise. Now, let's get you dried off. You've got to be freezing."

She stood and tugged him gently to his feet then started patting him dry, using one corner of the towel to dry her tears. She used a different corner to squeeze as much water as she could out of the soaked silk collar, wishing she could just take it off, but if she did, Spike would probably freak out again. She'd have to see about getting something that could stand up to being worn 24/7 and not get ruined in the shower, because Spike was a long way from being ready to own himself.

When he was as dry as he was going to get without rubbing the cloth over his damaged skin, Buffy hung the towel over the shower door and turned back to Spike. She'd moved his hands from his low back to hang at his sides and he hadn't moved them from that position since she'd placed them there.

He was watching her intently and she took a couple of steps toward the door then held her hand out to him. He looked down at her hand then back to her face. She nodded toward his left hand and said, "Give me your hand, Spike." He lifted his left hand and laid it lightly in hers. She wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed. "Good, Spike. That's good."

She led him out of the bathroom and over to the bed then nodded back toward the door to the master bath. "Okay. I'm going to go do my human stuff in the bathroom and then I'll get you some blood. I'll be right back." She nodded at the bed. "You can sit down if you want."

She squeezed his hand then let go and made for the bathroom, intending to be as quick as she could so Spike wouldn't be alone for very long. She stripped out of her wet clothes, tucking the box of pebbles into the back of her makeup drawer, then hurried through drying herself off, putting on her pajamas, using the toilet, and brushing her teeth. She went back out to the bedroom to find Spike standing in the exact same position she'd left him in, with his hand slightly outstretched as it had been when she'd let go of it.

She suppressed a tired sigh then stepped up next to him and tugged and nudged until she had him reclined on the bed, resting against a pile of pillows in front of the headboard. She pulled the sheet and comforter over him up to his waist and he looked down at the covers as she laid his hands on his thighs. His fingers twitched against the fabric ever so slightly and Buffy smiled as she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I'll be right back with your blood."


	14. Chapter 14 - Cleaning

Service Unit

Chapter Fourteen – Cleaning

She let him go and he stopped walking, making sure to hold position while she turned on the water in the shower. Steam started gathering at the ceiling and he suppressed a shudder. He'd been cleaned with nearly all temperatures of water, but when the creatures had used hot water, they'd made sure it was near boiling and then they'd scrubbed his scalded skin until it bled.

She turned to face him and said, "Spike, come here, please."

This was his first verbal command that wasn't accompanied by some kind of touch. He dug for courage again and took a small step then checked to see if he'd done right. She nodded and beckoned with one hand. He kept going until he'd reached her then stopped, fighting back a flinch as she took his right hand and extended it toward the steaming water. Then she asked if the temperature was all right like he was actually worthy of having an opinion about it. It was a little too warm and would hurt when it hit his damaged skin, but there was no way he was going to disagree with her or tell her she was wrong, so he slightly pushed his hand further into the stream to show that it was fine.

She told him to get in, accompanying the verbal command with a light touch on his back, and he stepped into the stall, looking for the manacles that would hold him in place while he was cleaned. There weren't any, so she expected him to hold himself still without the aid of restraints.

He'd been left unrestrained during his first cleaning, but when one of the creatures had shoved their hand inside him along with an enema hose, he'd twisted and side-stepped, trying to get away from the pain, and had ended up breaking its arm. His trainer had instructed the creatures to chain him spread-eagled in the middle of the room then he'd had them beat and sodomize him with the heavy, stiff-bristled brushes used for cleaning. They'd beaten him severely enough that he'd ended up with several broken bones – quite a few of his ribs, both legs, and one arm – and both shoulders had been dislocated. Then they'd cleaned him, spraying his mangled body with caustic chemicals and scrubbing at it with the stiff brushes before rinsing it off with a punishing jet of scalding hot water. His first 'cleaning' had left him damaged enough that he'd needed over a week to heal before his training could continue. He'd always been restrained after that, and even though he couldn't move or resist, he'd still been beaten and sodomized, although not quite as badly as that first time.

He stepped to the wall and assumed the position for cleaning, pretending that there were manacles tight around his wrists and ankles, and then he waited. For what he wasn't sure. He didn't think she'd clean him in the manner he was accustomed to, being that she didn't have manacles mounted in her shower and he hadn't seen any of the usual cleaning implements like scrub brushes or enema kits, but he didn't know what else to do. He desperately wanted to please her, but she wasn't giving him specific commands, so all he could do was what he normally did and hope that was good enough.

She stepped into the stall beside him and he flinched involuntarily then tensed in anticipation, hoping that she wasn't upset with him. He heard her breathe in deeply and his stomach clenched again. She was. He braced himself for whatever she was about to do and almost flinched again when she touched his back. He let his stomach unclench a little when she said she wasn't going to hurt him, but only a little. Of course it would hurt. Being cleaned always did. If it wasn't the water scalding him then it was harsh chemicals burning his skin or the brushes nearly scraping it off. And even if the shower water was at a tolerable temperature, the chemical laden enema solution that made his guts spasm in agony was always near the boiling point. Always.

She took his right hand down from the wall then maneuvered him under the water with light touches and gentle pushes. The water hurt quite a bit as it sluiced down his damaged back and across his mangled cock and balls and he hissed at the sudden pain. He held his breath until he'd gotten used to the temperature, then let it out in a quiet sigh. The water actually felt good now, the heat seeping into him and making him feel warm for the first time since he'd been unpacked from his crate.

She turned him around and said she was going to wash him and he watched as she picked up a bottle and poured some of its contents into her hand. He tensed slightly, expecting the burn of cleaning chemicals as she applied it to his scalp and started rubbing it through his hair, but instead of burning or stinging, her massaging fingers felt… good. His eyelids started to close and he worked to keep them open then let them fall shut when she gave him permission to do so. Then he stood there, his muscles starting to relax as she kept up the gentle motions of her fingers, scratching lightly with her nails and pressing with her fingertips as she spoke quietly about his hair. He didn't hear most of what she said, the pleasurable sensations she was causing overriding nearly everything else, but the cadence of her voice was soothing and familiar, and something inside him started to break loose.

He was good at showing fear and pain… those emotions were expected in a service unit… but once he'd been broken, he'd built a wall around his other emotions, not daring to show anger, sadness, happiness, or gratitude – not that he'd had any cause to show the last two during his captivity – but now that wall was starting to crumble. She could've stopped washing his hair after a handful of seconds… it wasn't like he had much, considering he'd been thoroughly waxed right before going to his last renter… but she was still massaging his scalp, treating him as if he were something to be cherished and not just a toy to be cleaned and stored.

And when she started to rinse the soap off his head, covering his eyes with a wash cloth to keep the suds from stinging them even though they were closed, the wall crumbled completely. Nobody had shown him an ounce of consideration during his captivity. Nobody had done anything to **prevent ** him from feeling pain, even something so slight as the sting of soap, and he started to do something he hadn't allowed himself to do since he'd been broken. He cried.

Oh, he'd shed tears since he'd built that wall, but they'd only been a visceral reaction to the agony his body was going through, not because of any emotions he'd felt, but now tears spilled from his eyes to mix with the shower water as an overwhelming feeling of gratitude toward his owner washed through him. He would do anything for her. Anything at all. She'd been so kind to him, and even though some of what she'd done to him had been painful, he **knew** that she hadn't meant it to be. She cared about him – cared if he hurt, cared if he felt pleasure… cared if his eyes got stung by soap suds. He mattered to her.

The tears continued as she gently washed him, being careful not to disturb the many wounds littering his body, and when his cock filled and rose from the contact with the soapy washcloth, she asked him… **ASKED ** him if he wanted her to bring him to orgasm. He did, because he'd thoroughly enjoyed the last one, but then again he didn't, because his cock hurt… a lot. It was scratched and abraded and bruised, and there was a constant throbbing pain radiating from his balls that would only get worse when they emptied themselves of his seed. But it was her decision, not his. She was the owner and he the service unit, and if she wanted to use him, then it was her right. It didn't matter that what she wanted to do would cause him pain, so when she asked him what he wanted, he answered the only way he could… in the affirmative.

Then she wrapped her hand around him and stroked, and it hurt, the soap she'd coated her hand in stinging the dozens of scratches and abrasions up and down his shaft. The lube she'd used earlier hadn't stung, and that, coupled with his complete unfamiliarity with the situation, had made the pain caused by her touch seem less important, but now… it was important. It was all he could do to not pull away from her, to make himself stand and accept the pain as he should, and he nearly missed the question she asked. She wanted to know if it had hurt when she'd stroked him.

It had, but could he tell her that? He wasn't used to anyone asking how he felt, if what they were doing to him was painful. It was supposed to be, that was the entire point. But she wanted an answer out of him and she wanted the truth. Part of him wanted to tell her no, because even though he wasn't sure how stroking him to completion would bring her any pleasure, it was her right to do so. She could also get him **almost** there and then put a ring on him so he'd be ready for later use. And even though she cared about him, he was still her toy to use as she chose. He searched her face and decided that using him wasn't what she wanted. At all. She was genuinely concerned about how he felt. He tapped that well of courage that seemed to be filling up the more he accessed it and nodded.

And she let go. Immediately. She didn't squeeze or stroke or even brush her soapy fingers down his shaft. He was completely thunderstruck; his mind a flurry of awe and gratitude and surprise at her actions. She'd stopped doing something to him because it hurt. Nobody had done **that** before. Nobody had put his needs or feelings above their own. Usually any sign of pain from him had only resulted in more pain being inflicted.

The tears that had only been leaking from his eyes suddenly flowed from them in a torrent, pouring down his face as she reached around him to turn off the water. He wished he could somehow show her how thankful he was that he belonged to her now. How much he appreciated all she'd done for him… and hadn't done **to** him.

It never occurred to him to try to speak to her; to actually say the words. It hadn't hurt when his hearing and ability to scent had been taken. It had been uncomfortable to have small stones stuffed up his nose and into his ears, sure, but when they'd taken his voice; his trainer had slashed his throat with his claws, leaving a gaping wound. Then he'd used a claw to slice and dig open a hole in his larynx large enough to cram a large black stone into it. And now, because his throat didn't hurt from the incisions that would've had to be made to remove the stone, he assumed that his voice hadn't been returned to him. Maybe it couldn't be. The stone might well be part of him now; it had been there so long.

She stepped out of the stall without giving him any kind of command, but he didn't really need one for this part of the cleaning process. He was used to following the creatures from the cleaning area to another room where they would then command him into whatever position was needed to prepare him for his next renter.

So he stepped out of the stall after her and then, without waiting for the command, did the only thing he could think of to show his thanks. He assumed the position he was ordered into each time his trainer was done reclaiming him… after he'd stopped writhing on the floor in agony from the reclaiming, of course. Every unit was ordered to do so to show their gratitude to their trainers for their continued care.

He knelt and bent at the waist, pressing his forehead to his owner's foot, hoping that the gesture would convey how he felt to her. He was grateful, yes, but grateful wasn't a big enough word to encompass what her kind treatment meant to him. If he hadn't already been her slave, he'd have willingly given himself to her, and he vowed to do everything in his limited power to make her happy.

She stood quietly as he kept his forehead pressed to her foot, his tears dampening her already wet shoe, then she wiggled it out from under him and a moment later a heavy cloth was draped over his back and her small hands were tugging at his shoulders. He sat back, flinching slightly at her gasp, then tried to blink the tears out of his eyes. She thought she'd hurt him, but that was the farthest thing from the truth and he didn't know how to tell her that. His gesture of thanks had been misunderstood and a sob forced its way out of his throat. She knelt beside him then took him into her arms, holding him close as he berated himself for his inadequacy.

She'd treated him better than anyone ever had and now she was apologizing to him for it. **He** should be the one apologizing, not her. And now she was crying. He'd made her cry.

That thought fueled his tears even as he tried to hold position. He'd made the only person to ever show him any kindness cry. He had to do better. Had to turn off these useless emotions that were only causing problems. But the tears wouldn't stop. Once the wall had crumbled, all the emotions he'd been holding back had spewed forth, and no matter how hard he tried not to, he continued to sob against his owner's neck.

He didn't know how long it took, but he finally managed to get himself under control. He started to build a hasty barrier around his emotions, determined to shore it up as much as he was able, because he would not make his owner cry again. By the time she commanded him to sit up, he had it mostly constructed. It was weak in spots and he would have to be careful not to put pressure in those areas, but he thought it would hold. He glanced quickly at her face, inwardly cringing with guilt at the tears he could see on it, then dropped his eyes to his knees.

And she surprised him again by gently lifting his face and smiling at him. Then she said that **she** would make mistakes and he almost shook his head. Owners didn't make mistakes. Slaves did. And then they were punished for them. Even if what the owner ordered was irrational or physically impossible to do, the slave was held responsible if the order wasn't followed.

She'd stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly, like she'd asked him a question. His stomach clenched and his eyes widened in fear. He hadn't been paying attention and he'd missed it. What had she asked? He **had** to stop thinking so much and just listen to her! But instead of being angry that he hadn't answered, she gently cupped his cheek and apologized to him. Again. And his hastily constructed barrier came tumbling down.

He struggled to contain the tears as she tugged him to his feet and started drying him off. By the time she hung up the towel, he had himself under control once more and was standing quietly as he waited for her next command. She told him to give her his hand then praised him when he did. He had to blink quickly to stave off another round of grateful tears as she led him away from what had been his most enjoyable cleaning ever.

She led him into her sleeping area and stopped him next to the bed then said she was going back into the bathroom and would get him some blood. His stomach gurgled in anticipation. Then she said he could sit down if he wanted. She squeezed his hand then turned and walked away and he held position as he cut his eyes to the bed. Did he want to sit down? He honestly didn't know. He was a slave and slaves knelt where they were told, they didn't sit on their owner's furniture like actual people. He hadn't sat on anything just to sit on it during his entire captivity. Anytime he'd been on a piece of furniture, it was because it was supporting his weight or he was manacled to it while a renter used him or beat him.

She hadn't actually **told** him to sit, so would she be upset when she came back and he hadn't? Maybe he should. He stared at the bed, trying to convince himself that he could turn and sit on it, but he couldn't. His training wouldn't allow him to move without being specifically commanded to. He'd been punished for that infraction too many times to count and he'd learned the lesson – don't move unless ordered to or your owner or renter moves you.

She reappeared suddenly, startling him slightly, although he managed to suppress the flinch as she stepped up next to him. She took his arm and gently turned him then pressed down on his shoulders until he sat on the bed. She turned him again and laid her hand lightly on his thigh, nudging it toward the bed. He lifted his legs onto the bed and she nudged him toward the headboard, making adjustments until he was leaning against several pillows.

She pulled the blanket over him then laid his hands on top of it, resting them on his thighs. His fingers twitched against the soft fabric as she gently kissed his forehead then left to get him some blood. He watched her go, his mind awash with awe again. She'd put him in her bed and had covered him with her blanket like he belonged there. He'd fully expected her to have him kneel in a corner while she slept. He'd never… his eyes welled up again and he blinked several times until he'd battled the tears back.

He would do anything for her. Anything at all.


End file.
